Make This Real
by HalfASlug
Summary: With the war over Hermione and Ron hope that everything can go back to normal. Unfortunately there's a tense atmosphere in the Granger household as her parents adjust and the change in their relationship is marred by the death of his brother. With everyone still recovering from the scars of the past year, they soon realise that moving forward was never going to be simple.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Greetings! Thanks must be given to ninnytreetops for beta-ing this prologue/restoring my dwindling sanity so I will give them - THANK YOU!_

_If you have read my other fics then this set after Back To Life, Nineteen Days Later, No Reason, Beginning and that general bulk of my just-after-the-war stories. It's all set in the same universe and things from those stories will probably crop up. You don't have to read any of them to understand what is going on, but it wouldn't hurt to read the first bit of Seven Simple Years' twelfth chapter or chapter four of Nineteen Days Later for a bit of background. They're both stand alone chapters so you don't even have to read the rest of those stories._

_And on with the story. Hope you guys enjoy this. If not, I'm sorry. At least you didn't have to pay for the disappointment though, right?_

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is the creator of Harry Potter, his world and possibly Peter Capaldi. After The Cuckoo's Calling I don't believe anyone isn't J.K Rowling until she has confirmed it. _

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Ron couldn't remember a time he had been looking forward to a dinner less. In fact, he had been doing everything within his power to prevent the occasion while somehow not being late at the same time. As he avoided a swarm of flying ants by crossing the road, he told himself the reason he was walking so slowly was purely to do with preventing himself from becoming too sweaty under the glare of the sun that was still high in the sky despite it nearly being evening. Even after spending twice as long in the shower as he usually did, Ron still felt like he had a second skin. Rushing would only make things worse. It had nothing to do with trying to keep as much space between him and Hermione's father as possible.

As her house came into view with its red brick driveway and neat garden, Ron reflected that it had been over a month since he had been in the same room as Mr Granger. They probably would have met again sooner if that first meeting in Australia hadn't gone so disastrously wrong. Even now, Ron couldn't pin point the moment things had started to nosedive, although Hermione explaining to her father that he was on a different hemisphere to the one he thought he was on was probably it.

It had been just over a week since Voldemort's downfall that they had buried Fred and, still in more pain that he truly knew, Ron had promised Hermione that he would go to Australia with her. She had been blown away by the gesture but it hadn't been a point of contention for him. If Hermione was leaving the country then he had to be there because the thought being without her was unbearable. The next day she had got plane tickets from somewhere, the day after that the ministry had pushed through Ron's passport application and before he had chance to get used to the idea, Ron was on an aeroplane for the first time in his life with a nervous wreck of a Hermione by his side.

Having used her parents' savings and more organisational skills and underhand magic than Ron thought even she had been capable of, Hermione had secured her parents a rented property in Adelaide for six months, as well as jobs, so finding them only took a couple of hours once they were finally in Australia. The hard part had been Hermione restoring their memories. As she had explained during a hushed conversation in the airport, her mother knew that she and her husband were having their identities changed and moving to Australia while Mr Granger had no idea. It was decided that it would be best if they restored her mother first while her father was out. After a very tense hour waiting outside the small house, Mr Granger left for work, not knowing that this would be the last time he would see his wife Monica. Ron had knocked the door, claiming to be doing a survey on British ex-pats in the city and they had been welcomed in. Before Monica Wilkins had even offered them a drink, Hermione had hit her with the reversal charm and she had slumped on the sofa.

Five nerve-wracking minutes later, she had came to, blinking rapidly as she took in her surroundings. Ron could still remember the way she had frowned, her expression so like Hermione's, at the unfamiliar sitting room before her eyes fell on Hermione.

Time had stood still as mother and daughter stared at each other until, finally the older woman had spoken.

"Did - did you do it?"

Hermione had nodded, the tears she had been holding back for days finally spilling over, and within seconds she was in her mother's arms, both of them sobbing while Ron watched on, shuffling awkwardly. Just as he'd thought about maybe sitting outside to give the two Granger woman some privacy, Mrs Granger finally noticed he was in the room. Her brow knitted in confusion as she looked around as though something was missing.

"Where's Harry?" she had asked, sounding terrified. "He isn't- oh please tell me he isn't-"

"England," Hermione sniffed, pulling back from the hug and smiling. "He's in England. He's fine, perfectly fine."

Mrs Granger sagged with relief before glancing at Ron again. "But Ron's here."

While Ron had tried to work out if she was happy or upset about this and figuring it was best if he stayed silent until he did, she had carried on talking to Hermione.

"But if Harry's in England and Ron is here, then does that mean - did you - did he - are you-?"

Thankfully Hermione had understood whatever it was her mother had been trying to ask and blushed as she nodded. This had started both of them crying again as Ron had been dragged into a group hug, wondering not for the first time how women put up with all the crying they seemed to do.

The next couple of hours had been spent making small talk. They were all too overwhelmed to tackle any serious issues. Every so often Ron would try and contribute something, but it didn't seem necessary. Hermione and her mum looked content to talk about anything that came to mind, never taking their eyes off each other and constantly on the verge of tears. Halfway through a story about her parents jobs, however, Hermione took his hand. This simple gesture belayed the wide smile she wore and Ron knew he was very much needed.

While they briefly went through what was going on back home and how the ministry had helped organise certain aspects of their trip, neither Ron or Hermione discussed any battles or deaths that had occurred over the past several months. Once Hermione had calmed down a little, Ron had suggested he pop to a shop he had seen on the way to house get some food to give her and her mum some time alone. He had dawdled there and back, all the while trying to ignore the tightness around his lungs over not being sure Hermione was safe. Being in a strange country only exacerbated his worries over her well-being. If anything happened to her he would have a clue what to do or where to go. It wasn't until he had returned after taking over an hour to complete a twenty minute journey that he stopped feeling panicky.

Not long after that Wendel Wilkins returned home to find his wife acting very peculiar. She ushered him to the sofa and bustled from the room, muttering something about coffee. Before he could ask her what was wrong, a young woman appeared from nowhere, there was a flash of light and then everything went dark.

When Mr Granger had woken up again, Ron had thought he had come to terms with the story he had been told about the war, Hermione's involvement and him being moved to Australia fairly well. He had been quiet over lunch but the poor bloke had just had a bit of a shock. If it hadn't been for Hermione's worried expression as she explained how they a flight booked for the following evening then Ron would have thought everything was going to be okay. It wasn't until they had begun packing up the Grangers' possessions (a job made infinitely easier once Hermione had expanded the capacity of a few suitcases so things like wardrobes could be packed with ease) that Hermione had confessed that it was a never a good sign when her father was as quiet as he had been and that she was worried about his lack of questions.

Ron didn't tell her but he was a lot more worried about the glare he had received from her father when he seen him holding Hermione's hand during lunch.

They had been downstairs, transferring the contents of a large bookshelf in the living room into a small overnight bag when Mrs Granger had called for Hermione to help her, leaving Ron alone with Mr Granger. What happened next Ron knew he would probably regret for a very long time.

What started out as a stilted but polite conversation about the weather had somehow turned onto the subject of Hermione and how different she looked. Ron, having spent nearly every waking moment with her for sixth months, hadn't really noticed anything other than her hair being a lot shorter than normal. He had been there in his kitchen as his mum had cut it after all. But something in Mr Granger's tone had sounded like an accusation and maybe it was the jet lag or the heat or how he had barely stopped moving since Fred, but it wasn't long before Ron was shouting.

He still couldn't remember what he or Hermione's dad had said, until he heard two pairs of feet, cannoning down the stairs towards them. They were both on their feet, fists clenched and packing long forgotten.

"Look at her!" Mr Granger had roared, gesturing to Hermione in the doorway. "She's clearly ill!"

"You don't understand!" had been Ron's furious reply. "She's fine!"

"Do not tell me my daughter is fine! She is not fine! She is very far from fine and you let it happen!"

The old fear that he had let Hermione down mixed with the hunger and agony of the past year and soon Mr Granger's words were being drowned out by the sound of her screaming and his own voice calling for her, begging for it stop, the damp smell of the cellar, his fingers bloody from desperately clawing the walls-

And then there was silence but for his ragged breath.

The room was in focus and all he could see was Hermione's father, pale and scared, a wand directed at his face. A split second later Ron had realised the wand was his own and he dropped it as though it had caught fire.

Without a word, he had stumbled backwards, away from the scene. He had pulled a wand on a Muggle. Not just any Muggle, but Hermione's father. There was no coming back from this. Shame was almost choking him as he had sprinted into the garden and leant against a tree. It was only when he a had forced a himself to breathe again that he noticed how much he was shaking and the tears on his cheeks.

The sight of Hermione's front door made Ron snap back into the present. He knew this day would come eventually. If he expected to be with Hermione he would have to have dinner with her parents occasionally. That aside he knew he would have to somehow make up for his behaviour in Australia. Both of them had stiffly apologised a few hours after the incident but Ron knew he still wasn't trusted.

Tonight was to be the first step of his long journey back into the Grangers' good books. He couldn't stand on the front step all night.

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_ So that was the prologue. Entire first proper chapter is almost written so it shouldn't be a million miles away. Thank you for reading!_


	2. The Weasley Who Came To Tea

_A/N: Sorry about the delay with this chapter! It has cost me blood, sweat and tears but it is here now. Well... okay it cost me none of the above but it was still a pain in the arse._

_Fun fact of the day: This was originally the plot bunny that started Seven Simple Years. It is really weird to have finally written it well over two years later._

_Disclaimer: Still pretty sure than I'm not J.K Rowling. I'll let you guys know if anything ever changes on that front. _

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Ron pressed the button at the side of the door Hermione had shown him the few times he had been over while she was home alone and waited. Before the distant sound of a bell had faded, the door opened to reveal Hermione.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." Her smile wavered as she played with her sleeve. It didn't help that her next words were "It's going to be okay."

Even though her voice was strong Ron could see the doubt in her eyes. Though she had tried to hide the details from him it was clear that things had been strained between her and her parents. She probably needed the night to go well more than he did.

"'Course it will," he told her with more confidence than he felt. He leant forwards and kissed her briefly on the lips. When he pulled back Hermione gave him a proper smile.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi."

A noise from within the house alerted them to their surroundings. With a slight start Hermione stepped back to allow Ron in. He toed his shoes off quickly and saw that Hermione was wringing her hands as her blush grew.

Their relationship was still so new to both of them that even simple signs of affection felt to Ron like he was being struck by lightning. It meant that being around Hermione constantly had him on edge as the nervous energy built around them. When they were alone it was worse with him being hypersensitive of his limbs and his head feeling as though it was filled with cotton wool. All the build up meant that when they were alone it was like a damn breaking.

While that was spectacular, Ron wished he could focus on something other than how her tits looked in that t-shirt while her parents were just a few feet away. He was sure if he mentioned shagging their only daughter to the Grangers then the evening would take an unpleasant turn.

"Hermione? Was that Ron?" Mrs Granger's voice brought Ron back to Earth and he stilled Hermione's hands with one of his own.

He tried to give her a look that told her he was ready for this while all his instincts were screaming at him to bolt. Apparently it worked because a few seconds later her found himself in the sitting room, face to face with Hermione's dad, determinedly not thinking about Hermione with no clothes on.

"Hello, Mr Granger. Thanks for inviting me," Ron said, hoping it didn't sound like he had spent two hours practising what he had just said.

"No problem, Ron," the older man replied, shaking his hand. "I'm glad you could make it."

Ron smiled. He had been so preoccupied with his opening that he hadn't thought of anything else to say. Fortunately, it appeared Mr Granger hadn't either. The three of them sat down, Hermione next to Ron on the sofa and her dad in an armchair, and shared a loaded silence.

Ron glanced at Hermione who was biting her bottom lip and eyeing her dad cautiously. Mr Granger wasn't a typically imposing man, with his lean form and glasses, but there was a commanding air about him. Something about the way he held himself gave off the impression that he wasn't one to suffer fools lightly. The whole effect had Ron casting around for something to say and only finding foolish things.

Before he could embarrass himself Ron was saved by Mrs Granger hurrying into the room.

"Sorry, the potatoes were boiling over," she rushed out as Ron shot to his feet. "How are you, Ron?"

"Er - not bad," he answered. After his stony greeting with her husband, Ron was caught off guard by Mrs Granger's overt friendliness. "Yourself?"

"Oh, you know, obeying gender stereotypes and slaving over a hot stove all day," she said lightly.

"Right." Ron didn't dare elaborate on his response as he was unsure whether this was a test or a joke.

"I offered to cook," Hermione's dad sighed. It sounded like they had already had this discussion. "You insisted so you can't complain now."

"Don't repress me in front of the children, dear," she replied, before turning back to Ron and Hermione. "So how was your journey, Ron?"

Ron noticed both Hermione and her father roll their eyes before he answered. "Good. Apparated so there wasn't a whole lot that could go wrong."

"Apparated? Isn't that what you passed a test in, Hermione?" questioned Mr Granger.

"Yes, it's much like a driving license really," she replied much like she used to back at Hogwarts. "You have lessons and can't take the actual test until you're seventeen." Ron smiled fondly. Seeing her demonstrate her knowledge always made him feel proud of her. Even something as basic as this she could make sound impressive by mixing it with the crazy Muggle version so her parents could understand.

"When did you pass, Ron?"

Mrs Granger's polite question brought any warm feelings of pride he had crashing down.

"Well," he began, noticing Hermione tense next to him, "I haven't technically passed yet."

"And by that you mean?" Mr Granger asked in a tight voice.

Ron's mouth was suddenly very dry. "I-I only just failed first time and then before I could retake it... Well... We went on the run," he finished at a mumble. He may not be an expert but Ron was certain the way into Hermione's parents' hearts was not by telling them he was a law-breaking fuck up who had spent the best part of last year as a fugitive.

"He's applied for another test," Hermione said quickly. "It's taking a while because the Department of Magical Transportation is still running on a skeleton staff and they have other priorities at the minute. He's excellent at Apparating so it's just a formality really."

His heart swelling at Hermione praising him, Ron watched a muscle in Mr Granger's jaw twitch.

"I'll check on those potatoes," he announced stiffly before leaving the room.

"So, Ron," Mrs Granger began in a slightly higher pitch than normal as she perched on the seat her husband had just vacated, "any other laws you've broken recently?"

Mr Granger stayed in the kitchen while Ron tried to make himself look like someone worthy of Hermione to her mum. Hermione did her best to help by mentioning how he had been part of the Quidditch Cup winning team two years on the trot and anything remotely kind he had done in the past week, but Ron got the impression that Mrs Granger was more amused by her daughter's words than impressed.

Ron took Hermione's hand to try and calm her down. It was hard enough trying to talk in a way that made himself seem halfway normal without her making his ears glow. Thankfully Mrs Granger excused herself and went to find out where her husband was hiding.

"Stop it," Ron murmured as soon as she was out of earshot.

Hermione frowned. "Stop what?"

"Saying all that stuff about me. It's making me nervous."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione giggled.

"Seriously, Hermione, I can't think."

"Fine," she snapped. "I'll tell them about you getting into fights with Malfoy and all your detentions then, shall I?"

"You wouldn't?" Ron said. It wasn't until Hermione rolled her eyes at him that he relaxed with a loud exhale.

"I'm just trying to help," she said, looking at her knees.

"I know."

"It's not my fault you're so impressive," she mumbled.

Ron smirked. "Impressive?"

Hermione glanced at the door leading to the kitchen. Apparently satisfied that the coast was clear, she grabbed the front of his shirt that he had spent forever ironing and kissed him. The kiss was over before Ron had really noticed that it had begun.

"Wha-?"

"Sorry, I'm just nervous," Hermione cut in. "That normally calms me down."

Ron guessed she didn't mean that as an insult but he found their kisses did anything but calm him. "It's not going too badly," he reassured her.

"We haven't started dinner yet," Hermione reminded him, worrying her bottom lip.

Before Ron could give into temptation and take over her lip worrying duties, Mr Granger was back in the room looking remarkably like a man who had recently lost an argument. "Dinner's ready," he informed them. As he turned and left Ron noticed the back of his neck was red.

"Come on," Hermione sighed as she got up. "Please try to not talk with your mouthful," she added as Ron glowered at her. So much for being impressive.

The Grangers' dining room was much like the rest if the house: tastefully decorated and impossibly tidy. That wasn't to say that it felt like an impersonal showhome however. The dark wood sideboard was adorned with Muggle photos, mostly of Hermione, but also other family members he didn't recognise. As he sat down, Ron studied a photo of a gap-toothed Hermione grinning at him next to a blonde girl a couple of years older than her. It was unnerving the way she was frozen in time and Ron soon looked away as it reminded him of when she had been petrified.

"That was taken in France," Hermione said, nodding at the photo. "That's my cousin. I was only about 7."

"That one?" Mr Granger nodded towards the frame with an inquiring frown. "You were 5. I remember because your tooth fell out on the plane and you didn't tell anyone in case they had to land to sort it out."

Ron grinned at Hermione who sat up a bit straighter in her chair.

"How was I supposed to know?" she bristled. "I was five. Besides, that was when strange things happened to me all the time. I was scared a medical emergency would set one off."

"Medical emergency?" Ron scoffed. "You'd lost your tooth!"

Ron's good humour was soon lost when he caught Mr Granger's eye. "When you don't know about magic," he said quietly, "those incidents can be frightening, especially for a child." He stared impassively at Ron, causing him to forget most of the English language. Eventually he gave up and looked down, feeling rather like a small child.

Hermione was scowling at her father when her mother walked in carrying a plate in each hand. The distraction stopped her from saying anything but Ron could see by her pursed lips that she hadn't approved of the way her dad had spoken to him. Ron didn't know what to think. He had laughed at her, but she had known he was joking. Hadn't she? By the time Ron had resolved to ask Hermione about it later there was food in front of him and everyone had taken their seats.

Mrs Granger had mentioned the name of the dish but it had a foreign name that Ron had forgotten already. Asking for her to repeat it would make him look stupid so he copied Hermione as picked up the combination of what looked like bread, cheese and salad. As per Hermione's request, he only had a small bite and was relieved to discover that he liked it. On the walk here he had decided that no matter how much he hated any food he was given he was going to eat it anyway. Trying not to fuck this all up was going to be hard enough without trying to hide a look of revulsion as well.

The four of them were silent as they all began eating and Ron wished one of the Grangers would start a conversation. That way he could jump in rather than picking a subject that would offend them somehow. It was especially weird as he was so used to people around him discussing the war, efforts to rebuild and news on friends and family. With Hermione's family he couldn't fall back on topics like the ministry reforming or the plans for Hogwarts to reopen.

It all gave him the strange impression that he and Hermione were in a bubble, separate from her parents and their house. Even after a month Ron found it strange to be around other people. For so long Hermione and Harry were all he knew and adjusting had taken a while. Unlike his own family, Hermione's parents hadn't even been involved in the war so the feeling of disconnect was stronger. There were the people who had fought, had seen the horrors, felt the losses, and those that hadn't. It was like being a different species.

Ron glanced at Hermione and took in her stiff posture and the way her eyes kept flicking towards the door. They were her parents and this was the house she grew up in. Did she feel the same?

"So, Ron, Hermione was talking about your amazing sporting finesse earlier," said Mrs Granger. Hermione shot her an embarrassed look that she ignored. "Any plans to become the wizarding Michael Owens?"

"Owen," corrected Mr Granger with a sigh.

"Yes, him?"

Ron stared blankly at Mrs Granger's inquiring face. He could see Mr Granger busying himself with his food out of the corner of his eye. "I - er -" He turned to Hermione. "Who's Michael Owens?"

"_Owen,_" bit out Mr Granger.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled, "him."

Hermione shook her head apologetically. "I have no idea."

"He's a famous footballer," explained Mrs Granger, taking a sip of her drink.

"Right, well, I don't know that much about football," Ron said glumly before remembering something Dean had mentioned last week when he had seen him. "I know West Ham did all right this season though."

Mr Granger eyed Ron and he wished he could read him as well as he could his daughter. Despite his features resembling Hermione's so much, he was much better at keeping them neutral.

"They did," the older man eventually said. "Signed a few useful players."

Ron scraped his memory for something interesting that Dean had said but could only remember the half-hearted smile of his friend as he had said it had been something nice to hear after all those months spent hiding from snatchers. "Yeah, they did."

Mr Granger raised his eyebrows, clearly seeing through Ron's lack of footballing knowledge and went back to his food. Ron couldn't decide if he was grateful or frustrated. That had almost been a breakthrough.

"Dad supports Spurs," Hermione piped up. Apparently she had seen the opening too. Ron nudged her under the table. He didn't know what a spur was. Continuing this conversation was only going to lead to him looking inadequate in her dad's eyes. However, Hermione gave him a pleading look and Ron felt as though he was watching himself walk into a small room with a murderous lion rather than a discussion about football with a middle-aged man.

"How did they do this season, Mr Granger?" he asked, hoping upon hope that the answer was in someway positive. Unfortunately Ron spotted his fingers twitch and the strained quality to his smile. It was the sort of giveaway a Chudley Cannons fan could spot a mile away seeing as they did a similar thing when asked the same question.

"Not too badly," Mr Granger said shortly. "Awful in the FA Cup and came nowhere near qualifying for Europe but it could have been worse."

Ron nodded as though more than three words of his response had made sense.

"Were you still able to get the results in-in Australia?" Hermione asked. The mention of Australia made everyone at the table tense a little.

"We could get BBC Worldwide on the radio so we could keep up with all the football and even some important news from home," Mrs Granger said with a smirk that Hermione returned.

The slight on his sport roused Mr Granger from his guarded mood. "Football is important!" he insisted.

Mrs Granger laughed. "To you. For the rest of us twenty-two millionaires and a ball is hardly the be all end all of the world."

"Neither is fourteen brooms and four balls," added Hermione nudging Ron with her elbow. He gave her an offended look but didn't mean it really. She finally seemed to be loosening up a little.

"You should be thankful, Hermione," Mrs Granger said fervently. "At least when you went away Ron didn't meet any Quidditch fans. About a week after we moved, we went to the beach and met not one, but two English families. Lovely people, but all of them were huge football fans. So, of course, when this one," she gestured to her husband who shook his head resignedly, "got talking to them..."

Hermione laughed. "Don't suppose he would have noticed if you would have moved back to England?"

"I'm not that bad," Mr Granger tried to say but he was drowned out by his wife and daughter's chuckling. Ron smiled weakly, not wanting to give Mr Granger more reasons to hate him.

"Oh, but you haven't heard the best part," stage whispered Mrs Granger to Hermione. "Out of the whole of Australia you had to send us to city with two English families of _Arsenal fans._"

"No!" exclaimed Hermione, looking to her dad who was frowning at his empty plate, as though wishing he had more food to distract himself.

"What's Arsenal?" Ron asked. It felt very weird asking Hermione about sport but he really had no idea what was going on.

"Oh, Arsenal and Spurs have this big rivalry," she explained, placing a gentle hand on his forearm that was resting on the table. "It's silly really, but they take it so seriously."

Ron saw that Mr Granger had noticed him and Hermione having physical contact and realised there was only one side of this debate he could take. "Sporting rivalries are a serious thing, Hermione," he said wisely. "There's loads of stories about Quidditch fans using the weirdest of curses on other teams' fans."

He looked to Mr Granger and hoped his mention of magic hadn't angered him. Fortunately it seemed like the Hermione had had the right idea after all and sport might be the subject that they could bond over. Ron wondered briefly if he would end up liking football just to keep Hermione's dad happy and hoped it didn't come to that. From everything Dean had ever told or shown him the game looked as boring as fuck.

"Well, at least we don't have that issue," Mr Granger said. "It was still very awkward when it came out who my team were. I mean, talk about being sent to Coventry..."

Everyone else around the table chuckled. Ron, however, felt as though he was missing something. Surely Hermione would have been distressed to hear that after all her hard work of sending her parents away her father had came back to Britain because of something to do with a sport she didn't care about? "Why did you have to go to Coventry?" he asked, wondering just how serious Muggles took football rivalry.

"I didn't," Mr Granger replied shortly.

"Oh." Brow knitted in confusion, Ron picked up his glass for something to do, the atmosphere awkward once more. The fizzy drink that had been in there was long gone and only the half-melted ice remained. He took a sip anyway. When he put the glass down, Mr Granger was still looking at him as though he had asked what two plus two was.

"It's a Muggle saying," Hermione explained, after noticing his lost expression, "meaning to be ostracised."

He gave a her a grateful grin. He'd been making an effort to learn more Muggle things by listening to Hermione, Harry and his dad (although he was starting to realise his dad's word shouldn't always be trusted) but it would have been impossible for him to know everything. "I didn't know there were many ostriches in Coventry?" he added innocently.

Hermione and her father both opened their mouths to explain his mistake, but were interrupted by Mrs Granger's snort of laughter. Nervously, Ron smiled at her and she nodded appreciatively back. Even though Hermione rolled her eyes at his poor joke, Ron still felt like he had accomplished something. Before he had thought Mrs Granger might have just been polite, but he was starting to hope that maybe she actually liked him.

"Funnily enough, the saying has nothing to do with massive birds," she said with a slight chuckle. "It actually started during the-" She stopped talking, her eyes wide as though she had accidentally said something offensive. Ron looked around the table to see that Mr Granger had froze as well, whereas Hermione was looking at her mother with her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"D-during the what?" Ron asked the table at large, completely unsure as to what had caused the atmosphere to plummet like this.

Mrs Granger was the first to recover. "It doesn't matter," she said cheerily. "How about-"

"During the civil war," Hermione interrupted defiantly, looking straight at Ron. Understanding flooded through him as he looked at her parents, concern etched on both of their faces.

"It's okay," Hermione insisted, finishing the last of her starter.

She missed the look her parents shared, both of them looking unsure and defeated.

"I'm sorry," Mrs Granger said softly.

Hermione placed her cutlery carefully onto her plate, looking intently at it as she spoke. "Honestly, it's fine."

Mrs Granger gazed sadly at her daughter, looking as though she was about to say something more when her husband took her hand and gave it a slight squeeze. Looking utterly helpless, she sat back in her chair as Mr Granger rose and took the finished plates into the kitchen.

With both of the Granger women staring in opposite directions, Ron fiddled with his sleeve. It looked as though being unsure around those who didn't fight in the war worked both ways.

When Mr Granger returned to the dining room with the main course Ron was pleased to see that is was roast chicken and vegetables. Admittedly the chicken was a little drier than mum's usually was and was covered in a sauce he didn't recognise and found a little rich, but food was food.

As he took his first mouthful he looked at Hermione and she gave him a sad smile. He pressed his leg against hers and returned her smile in the hope that she would understand that the mention of war was okay, especially if it was a Muggle war he knew little about. Again he wondered what it must be like for Hermione, trying to rebuild her life as her parents walked on eggshells around her. She had mentioned in passing how they would avoid sensitive subjects around her but seeing it brought it home for Ron. With the separation and the drama that surrounded the Grangers' return to Britain the last thing Hermione needed was another reason to feel apart from her family.

Once again it was Hermione's mother who started a conversation.

"So, Ron, tell us about your family," she said brightly, cutting into her chicken. "I've always wondered what they all do."

From someone else it might have sounded like an inquisition, but Hermione's mum seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him. He suspected that she knew the basics from Hermione already but he was happy to move the evening on from the horrible memories of last year.

"Oh, well, I've got a sister and fi-four brothers," Ron stuttered. His voice caught and Hermione had stilled next to him. His standard response about his family that had been rehearsed over the years was no longer true and it caught him off guard. Mrs Granger was tactfully pretending not to notice his apprehension while her husband was concentrating on his food.

He tried to block it from his mind, but the sound of the explosion and Percy's sobs were on him before he could. The walls were contacting and Ron could no longer think of what to say. The guilt of excluding Fred still felt like an insult to his memory but the alternative sounded just as wrong. To buy himself time, Ron coughed and took a sip of his replenished drink.

Under the table he felt something cover his hand and looked to see Hermione smiling at him. The whole incident had only lasted a few seconds but it felt like hours to him and she was bringing to an end like only she could. He gave her hand a squeeze, letting her know he was okay, that he was anchored in the present again, and turned back to her parents. She didn't let go of his hand.

"My dad works at the ministry," he continued, relieved that his voice sounded normal. "Bill's at a bank-"

"The wizard bank?" Mr Granger interrupted. "I've only ever seen goblins in there."

"He works more for them then with them."

"And it's normal for humans to work with creatures?"

"Well, yeah," Ron replied with a shrug, hoping Mr Granger was interested and not setting him up for something. "My brother, Charlie does as well."

"What does he work with?" asked Mrs Granger.

Ron was too busy trying to select a bit of chicken with the least amount of sauce on it to notice Hermione flinch next to him. "Dragons."

There was silence and Ron looked up from his food to see both of Hermione's parents gawping at him.

"Dragons?" Mr Granger said weakly. "In this country?"

"No," answered Ron, glancing at Hermione to see that she was cutting up a carrot into very small pieces, a task which apparently took a great deal of concentration. "Romania."

"So there are no dragons in this country?" Mr Granger's voice was back to its usual pitch but he still hadn't moved since the word 'dragons' had entered the conversation.

"No," Ron replied. Both of Hermione's parents visibly relaxed. "I mean," he chuckled, "where would we keep them?"

"Swindon?" suggested Mrs Granger with a straight face. Everyone at the table stopped eating to stare at her. "What?" she shrugged before adding under her breath, "It'd liven the place up a bit."

"I'm just grateful there are none anywhere near us," said Mr Granger. "All Britain needs is dragons roaming around."

Mrs Granger nodded in agreement and Hermione ducked her head so that her face was obscured by her hair.

"There are some in Wales and Scotland," Ron pointed out and soon wished he hadn't. The colour drained Mr Granger's face a lot quicker than was probably healthy.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before turning to Hermione. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Hermione replied in a voice that would have been casual is her face hadn't been so flushed. "On carefully managed reserves like the one Charlie works on. It's perfectly safe."

She went back to her dinner, pretending to be unaware that her father was still staring at her, open mouthed. He composed himself enough to pick his cutlery up again, but Ron could still see how uneasy he was. "Did you say Scotland?" he asked, sounding worried.

Hermione sighed and finally met her father's eyes. "Nowhere near Hogwarts, Dad."

"So you've never been near a dragon before?"

"No."

Ron snorted. "What?"

All of the Grangers were looking at Ron, making him feel uncomfortable. He turned to Hermione and was shocked to see her looking angry. He shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

"I saw a baby one years and years ago," she informed her parents dismissivley. "And some adult ones as part of the Triwizard Tournament."

Mrs Granger appeared to accept her daughter's words but Mr Granger was now scowling, a vein in his temple sticking out.

"So when you said 'no'-" he began through gritted teeth but Hermione interrupted him.

"I forgot." Her voice was harsh and Ron glanced from one furious glare to the other.

"Forgot about drag-" Mr Granger pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to contain himself. Hermione's determined expression didn't waver. "Anymore?"

"No."

"Yes."

Ron and Hermione had spoke at the same time. He gave her a questioning look and received an incredulous one in return. With her parents sat right in front of them Ron could hardly ask why Hermione was lying to them but he wished she would give him a sign. It wasn't exactly a secret about the last dragon. She had been to hearings about it and everything. Surely her parents had been told about it or at least had seen the owls she had been sent.

"That one we rode out of Gringotts last month?" Ron said, looking questioningly at Hermione's parents.

"What?"

Judging by the looks of shock and horror sat across the table from him, Ron concluded that Hermione hadn't mentioned breaking into a bank and escaping on a fire-breathing monster to her parents.

"A-as part of what we needed to do to defeat Voldemort," Hermione explained quickly, as though speed would somehow disguise her words, "we needed something that was in a vault so we may have-"

"You robbed a bank?" injected her father, looking as though Hermione had grown tentacles and had announced plans to live on the moon.

"We took one thing," she insisted, a slight wobble in her voice. "One _very_ necessary thing."

"It was stolen in the first place, anyway," Ron added, sensing that maybe he had been in the wrong. His attempt to help Hermione earned him a glare from her father and he sat back in his chair, deciding that he would probably make things worse if he spoke.

"So... where does the dragon come into the story?" Mrs Granger asked. While her husband appeared angry, her eyes were still wide with shock.

"Before we could get out, they realised there were intruders," Hermione answered somewhat desperately. "The dragon was guarding the vault and – they were treating it terribly -" She trailed off an bit her lip.

Ron felt incredibly guilty for bringing the whole thing up. Hermione was the girl who probably apologised profusely for things she did accidentally and sent herself to bed without any supper. Her parents couldn't possibly have been prepared to hear about her breaking the law in such a dramatic manner.

"You robbed a bank," summerised Mrs Granger, her expression one of disbelief, "and used a dragon to escape?"

Hermione nodded. Her parents didn't show any reaction other than blinking, their meal forgotten in front of them. Ron glanced at his chicken longingly. He wasn't sure he was going to get to finish it if the Grangers were just going to stare at each other all night.

"How - how did you get away with this not being in the papers?" Mr Granger asked breathlessly. Apparently tackling the main issue of his daughter being a thief was too much so he went for the lesser issues first. "When was this?"

"The day before the battle."

"The battle that happened on the second of May?" He frowned. "So you robbed a bank on the May Bank Holiday?"

Mrs Granger came out of her reverie with a slight shake of her head. "There was a dragon flying over London and no one saw this?"

"There are teams of people working at the ministry who sort these things out, Mum," Hermione said calmly. "No one was hurt," she added as a second thought.

As Hermione went back to her food Ron frowned at his own. Rather than the remains of his food, all he could see were the pictures of the dead and tortured goblins they had been shown during their hearing. The goblins had blamed them for Voldemort's wrath and wanted the three of them punished for it. Even though he knew deep down there was no way they could have known that Voldemort would massacre the creatures and that was far from their intentions, seeing the photographs of the dead weighed heavy on Ron's conscience.

She was lying to them again. Obviously they wouldn't know about every aspect of her life in the magical world but Ron had never suspected how much she had kept from them. How much didn't they know?

"Well," Mrs Granger eventually said with a slight cough, "it sounds more interesting than any spaghetti western I've ever endured."

Ron looked at her questioningly. "What's a spaghetti western?"

"You're better off without knowing," she replied sympathetically.

There was a crash of cutlery as Mr Granger threw his down onto his plate. "Our daughter stole from a bank and _that_ is all you have to say?"

"The war would still be happening if we hadn't!" Hermione fumed. "It was completely unavoidable!"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "we're not going to prison or anything."

Mr Granger redirected his angry gaze from Hermione to Ron. "I wasn't talking to-"

"Well, I don't know about you lot," Mrs Granger interrupted loudly, "but I am ready for dessert." Ron ducked his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione glaring at her father. Whenever the man was blindsided by something he reacted badly. Ron couldn't blame him seeing as it wasn't exactly something small, but he wished that he wasn't the prime target.

Although, he reasoned glumly, he hadn't exactly helped himself on that front when he had almost attacked him.

Mrs Granger made her way around the table, collecting the plates. When she reached Ron she stopped.

"Would you like to give me a hand, Ron?"

Startled, Ron nodded and stood up, knocking his knee painfully against the table in the process. He followed Hermione's mum into the kitchen, trying not to limp as his knee throbbed with each step. As he went through the door to the kitchen, Ron looked back at table to see both Hermione and her father shooting him curious glances as though wondering why he had been chosen over one of them. He couldn't help but think the same thing.

The moment the door closed behind, Mrs Granger sighed dramatically as she scrapped the leftovers into the bin.

"Sorry. I know it's rude to ask guests to help," she said, moving to take the plate Ron was still holding. "You don't have to do anything."

"Oh." Without anything in his hands to distract himself, Ron shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, subtly trying to pull them down a little to make them look longer. Somehow during nine months of malnourishment he had managed to grow enough for all of his smart clothes to be too short for him.

"I just thought it'd be a good idea to get you out of there," Mrs Granger called over her shoulder as she loaded the dishwasher. "Hermione is the only one who could possibly convince him you weren't breaking the law for the wrong reasons," she added, her voice shaking a little. What happened the last time Ron and Mr Granger had got into an argument went unsaid.

Realising that Mrs Granger was struggling with all of this just as much a her husband, Ron pushed aside his own nerves. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to have let her daughter wipe her memory and then go off and fight a war. She was handling it a lot better than he would have done.

"We honestly had no choice. I swear," he said, moving to help her retrieve four bowls from the top shelf of the cupboard.

Mrs Granger nodded as she took the bowls from him and placed them on the island in the middle of the room. "I believe you. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you've done that sound terrible out of context, but were wholly justifiable," she said as evenly as possible, bending to get something out of the freezer.

She straightened up and made her way back to the island with a tub of ice cream. Ron's heart lept until he saw it said sugar free on the side. Hermione had warned him that dessert wouldn't be like he was used to, but couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"We avoided all that kind of stuff the best we could," Ron told Mrs Granger, but it sounded as hollow it was. For that year existing alone had been incredibly dangerous.

"And yet you still ended up riding a dragon," Mrs Granger sighed. "These things happen. Apparently," she added, not meeting Ron's eyes. She busied herself in a drawer for a moment before pulling out an ice cream scoop that looked a little bit like the ones he had seen in Florean Fortescue's. The only difference was that is was much smaller and it looked as if you had to scoop the ice cream out yourself.

Ron couldn't think of anything to say. She was clearly more upset than she was letting on but he was bad enough at cheering people up when he knew them. There was nothing he could say that he hadn't said before. He had apologised in Australia and she had dismissed it as unnecessary.

"I don't hate you, Ron."

He started, noticing that he had been staring into space as she had begun scooping the ice cream. It had always struck Ron as strange how little Hermione looked like her mother, with her straight hair and hazel eyes, but she was looking at him in a way that told him she could see right through any excuse he could come up with. It was a look that Hermione had perfected over the years and suddenly the relation between the two women was undeniable.

"Wha- I didn't think-"

"You look terrified," she smirked, going back to the ice cream. "I know as well as anyone that if Hermione wants to do something, she will do it. I know you didn't drag her into this." She paused for a beat, apparently debating whether or not to continue speaking. "If anything I'm glad someone was looking after her," she finished sadly.

"I was," Ron promised. "Best I could."

"Good." Mrs Granger gave him a kind smile and Ron felt the tension that he hadn't realised had been in his chest lessen. "I don't trust that Harry though," she added under her breath.

Ron caught her eye and burst out laughing. She handed him two full bowls of ice cream. "He's not too bad," he told her, still smiling.

He watched as she gathered up four spoons and the other bowls, knowing that he had somehow managed to at least not screw up his chances with both of Hermione's parents. Admittedly he hadn't pulled a wand on this one, but at this stage in the game he was willing to take any victory he could get.

"Come on," Mrs Granger sighed. "They should have changed the conversation to something much more intellectually stimulating by now." She rolled her eyes and waited for a moment with her ear angled towards the door to the dining room. Ron silently joined her and listened.

"The man will bring the country to its knees," Ron heard Mr Granger say with certainty.

Hermione scoffed. "I suppose you have already forgotten the miner's strikes?"

Ron had no idea what was being discussed. He shot a questioning look at Mrs Granger, but she had her eyes closed, apparently begging for patience.

"You're far too young to even remember the miner's strikes!"

"They still happened!"

Mrs Granger exhaled loudly. "Of course," she muttered, barely audible over the raised voices in the next room. "They've gone for the well-known safe topic of _politics_."

With the air of someone going into a war zone, Mrs Granger shouldered open the door and marched towards the table and Ron followed. Neither of its occupants noticed their return.

"You only like Blair because he is friends with _Oasis_," Mr Granger said shortly, folding his arms.

"Dad, I found out who Oasis were three weeks ago!"

"And then everyone lived happily ever after," Mrs Granger nearly shouted over her husband's retort. "Wasn't that fun?"

Both Mr Granger and Hermione gave her an offended look before staring in opposite directions with an air of dignity. Mrs Granger gave Ron an exasperated look as she handed out the bowls in hand. As Ron placed a bowl in front of Hermione she gave him an inquiring look, clearly eager to know what had happened in the kitchen. He smiled and she almost sagged with relief as she picked her spoon up. Ron would have been offended by her lack of faith in him if he hadn't been so terrified before he had left the room.

"Sorry about the unimaginative dessert, by the way," Mrs Granger said, gesturing to the bowl in front of her. "I'm terrible at desserts."

"And not from lack of trying," added Mr Granger. He nudged his wife and smirked. She shot him a look that would have passed for scandalised if it hadn't been for the wide smile that followed. They shared a look as though they were both remembering the same incident and Ron averted his gaze. He was used to his parents doing this all the time. While it was less disgusting when it wasn't them, it was only marginally less awkward with Hermione's.

He glanced at Hermione to see how she was taking her parents flirting and saw that she her brow was furrowed.

"So –er – how's dentisting?" Ron asked once Hermione's parents had finished. The talk with Mrs Granger had definitely helped his confidence around them.

"Dentistry," Hermione corrected under her breath.

"That."

"Fine, thank you," Mr Granger replied sortly.

Ron waited for more but it never came. Although, with all he knew about Hermione's parents jobs, he doubted he could've said much more. How interesting could teeth be anyway?

"That's... good," he said and Hermione gave him an encouraging smile. Even though it hadn't really gone all that well she appreciated him trying. Suddenly he didn't feel like such a failure.

"Obviously it's not as exciting now I'm not around," Mrs Granger said pointedly at her husband who rolled his eyes.

"Obviously," he sighed. His wife grinned and ate another spoonful of ice cream.

Ron looked around at the other three people at the table as though he had missed something. He turned to Hermione, who was deliberately avoiding his eye. While he was shocked that Hermione hadn't metioned anything about this he decided against asking her about it because everything about her was uneasy at the minute.

"Are you not a dentist anymore?" he asked Mrs Granger who shook her head.

"No. Teeth and I had fun together, but I have decided to move on," she replied solemnly.

Ron glanced at Hermione who was still not looking at him. Apparently it wasn't just her parents she had been keeping things from. "What do you do now?"

"Oh, just your bog-standard nine-to-five in an office," she shrugged. "Nothing as fun as a dentist's drill to play with but the people seem nice."

Ron laughed. "What did teeth do to make you move on?"

She shook her head vaguely and failed to meet his gaze. "Just fancied a change," she answered in a slightly higher pitch than before.

_So that's where Hermione gets her atrocious lying skills from, _Ron thought. He looked to the girl in question and saw that she was eyeing her mother suspiciously.

"Anyway, who wants to talk about work at the dinner table?" Mr Granger interrupted with a forced laugh. "Surely there are more interesting things?"

"Other than football," added Mrs Granger.

Hermione's dad gave his wife an incredulous look that she raised her eyebrows at. The easy back and forth with the smiles earlier was nothing like the rehearsed quality of the words now and Ron wondered if that was how he and Hermione appeared to his family when they told them they were fine.

"Ooh I know," continued Mrs Granger with a cheeky glance at Hermione. "Tell us the story of how you two met."

Hermione blinked, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "You know how we met. On the train?"

"Yes," Mrs Granger chuckled, "but how did you become friends? We didn't hear about the famous Ron and Harry for weeks after you started Hogwarts."

Aside from the strange feeling of pride at hearing his name before Harry's, Ron was mainly shocked. The story of how they had became friends was fairly memorable. How had her parents forgotten it?

"Well, it was the mountain troll thing, wasn't it?" he laughed, scooping more ice cream. Unaware of the silence that had fell around the table, Ron ate his ice cream before he realised that the two people opposite him didn't know about the troll thing.

Slowly, he turned to face Hermione, his stomach sinking as their eyes met.

_I've done it again, haven't I?_

She scowled. _Yes, you have._

"Y'see, our first Halloween at Hogwarts," Ron began in what he hoped sounded like a happy voice, "a mountain troll was let into the school and me and Harry accidentally locked it in the same room as Hermione and had to-"

"I'm sorry," interrupted Mrs Granger weakly, "but what do you mean by 'mountain troll'?"

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out. Thankfully Hermione came to his rescue.

"Well," she started shakily, "a- er - mountain troll is – wait…" Her nervous mumbling ceased as her whole body froze.

Having been busying himself with his food, Ron had looked away from his girlfriend. When her tone changed and she stopped talking he looked back and saw that she was slowly turning her head towards him, her expression thunderous.

It was then Ron realised that a vow he had made with Harry nearly seven years previously had just been broken and their deep, dark secret had been unleashed on the one person they had sworn to keep it from. With stomach somewhere near his ankles and his voice a thing of the past, he could gawp, open mouthed at Hermione and hope he lived to see another day.

"What do you mean," she all but growled through gritted teeth, "_locked in_?"

* * *

"I am sorry."

"Seven years."

"I'm sorry."

Ron kicked a stone and watched it skit across the pavement. The past hour hadn't been so bad. With dinner finished, he'd been able to talk to Hermione's parents, once he had finished the now infamous troll story some more. They'd even been able to mention a bit about living in Australia without anyone getting angry.

Well, Hermione had spent the whole thing quietly seething next to him but he didn't suppose he could blame her. It wasn't every day you found out your two best friends had almost killed you and hadn't had the decency to mention it once in-

"Seven years. Not one word in _seven years._"

"Technically Harry did the locking. I was the swish and flick bloke," he reminded her with a grin that she glared at until it faded. Ron suspected the only thing that stopped her shouting at him at her house had been the look on her dad's face. He'd looked just as angry as Hermione at the news that her boyfriend had once locked her in a room with a murderous beast, but what father wouldn't? Thankfully she had joined in with the retelling, making sure sounded as though she was fine with it all and that it had been a fun day, really.

However, for the rest of the night she hadn't held his hand or even looked at him so when she said she would walk him to his Apparition point, he had a feeling it was more to shout at him than anything else.

They reached the park at the end of her street, made their way past the swings and hid amongst the trees. Even in the moonlight he could make out her scowl.

"Anything else you've kept from me?"

"You look amazing tonight?" he tried.

She folded her arms and tried to hide her blush. "Are you saying that to get out of trouble or because you mean it?"

"Both?"

Almost reluctantly she stepped forward and hugged him around the waist. They stood there for a while, the soft sounds of the leaves and the distant rumble of traffic the only thing telling them that they weren't alone in the world.

"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed.

"What for?" Ron ask, bemused. Last time he had checked it was him in the dog house.

"Dad being difficult."

Her voice was so quiet that Ron could barely hear her. He kissed the top of her head and she squeezed him.

"This went better than the first time we met," he reasoned. Other than the odd bit of rudeness and him being standoffish in general, Ron hadn't thought it had gone too badly. Although, Hermione obviously knew he father better.

Hermione pulled back with a sniff and shook her head. "It shouldn't be like this," she mumbled and Ron could hear that she was close to crying. "I think you would really get on if it wasn't for-"

She trailed off and looked at her shoes.

"Australia?"

"Australia," she agreed at a whisper.

Their eyes met and Ron could almost pretend he was back in Adelaide, trying to pull himself together in the Grangers' garden. He'd been tempted to run and keep going until he couldn't anymore but his legs were lead and he was shaking too much to stand without leaning on the tree behind him anyway. Before he could choose his course of action he had heard Hermione's raise voice coming out of the still open front door.

"You have no right to speak to him like that! You don't know what he's done, what he's been through!"

"He doesn't know what _we've_ been though," her father had fired back just as loud. "How dare he walk away from me, the coward-"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that coward," Hermione had screeched. Against his better judgement, Ron had looked around the tree, into the front window. Mrs Granger was by her husband, crying silently, while Mr Granger looked halfway between anger and nausea. "That _coward_, who three days ago buried his brother and... I thought you would understand."

Hermione had left her father in the front room looking stunned and hurt. Ron hid himself behind the wide trunk of the tree again, still reeling from his actions and the mention of Fred. He was so preoccupied with trying to control his heart rate that he didn't notice Hermione had left the house until she was stood in front of him. Before he could speak, apologise until his throat gave out, she had pushed him against the tree and was attacking his lips with hers as though it was her last moment of Earth.

As his world had begun to right itself he had noticed how much she was shaking and he knew they were both as far from okay as they had ever been.

Looking at her in the low light now, so small she was almost childlike, Ron had the feeling she was remembering the same thing.

"It'll get better," he reassured her but she was shaking her head before he had finished speaking.

"He's my dad, Ron, and I-" Her voice broke and she closed her eyes. "We act like strangers half of the time."

Having spent the past couple of hours with them, Ron had to admit she was right. She could talk to her mum but everything with her dad had been forced and overly polite at best. He couldn't help but feel like he was to blame for it all. If he hadn't fucked up in Australia then maybe he would have reacted to the move better?

He pulled Hermione towards him but she resisted.

"It'll be all right. Promise," he said with a smile.

She looked up at him with a look of defeat that he despised. Hermione Granger never gave up. "You can't promise things like that," she dismissed.

"Well, I am," he told her stubbornly.

She went to respond and Ron knew he would never beat her in a battle of words so he dipped his head and kissed her. What started out as a peck to shut her up, quickly morphed into fingers scraping scalps and soft moans. As with every other time they were alone like this Ron forgot about bodies and explosions, caskets and gleaming read eyes, and let his entire existence become about Hermione. As long as they had this they would be okay. They could get through everything if she kept doing that thing with her tongue.

"Go on," Hermione said as she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, "or your mum will have a fit and I'm sure your dad is desperate to hear everything about my house."

In spite of her words, she continued to cling to him. With this and most of his blood being further south than it should have been, Ron was almost too lightheaded to change his features around in order to look serious.

"Do I start with the lightbulbs or the dishwasher?"

Another giggle and they were kissing again. Too soon, Hermione had broke it off again, this time stepping back as well.

"Go!" she laughed.

"I'm never going to be able to leave if you keep kissing me like that."

Hermione's expression went from shy to coy and this, mixed with her swollen lips, pink cheeks and messy hair, made Ron decide that this was as attractive as she could be and if he was wrong he was a dead man.

She stepped back into his personal space, threaded her hands into his hair and pulled him down so he could feel her breath on against his lips.

"Like this?" she whispered with a quirk of her eyebrows.

_Yes, _Ron thought, pulling her flush against him, _they were going to be okay, as long as they had this._


	3. Wicked Witch of the Kitchen

_A/N: Hope everyone had a nice train journey this morning and no one had to go joy riding! It does spoil the day somewhat._

_If you are reading this that means you have probably survived the absolute beast that was the previous chapter. Congratulations. If you reviewed, favourited or decided to follow this then thank you. This chapter is both happier and shorter so yay. __One thing I should have probably said about this story at the beginning - while it will cover the whole of summer '98, this story isn't going to go into every minute of every day. It's kind of like snapshots of important parts so some things will be mentioned and eluded to but not given a proper chapter._

_Also 50 points to whoever can work out why I've named Hermione's parents Ben and Dawn. Bonus points if you can work out what connects those reasons to Potter. This 'competition' is a lot easier if you watch British sitcoms._

_Also, also if you are guest reviewer Chavi (hello! thank you!) then a reply to your last review can be found on my tumblr. The link is on my profile. Just search 'halfaslug' or 'chavi' on my blog and you'll find it._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is too busy being J.K Rowling to watch sitcoms. I am too busy watching sitcoms to do anything productive with my life._

* * *

As much as she loved her husband, Dawn Granger often found that spending the night in the same bed as him soon had her thoughts leaning towards him meeting a violent and sudden death.

There were only so many times that a woman could be almost pushed out of bed by a flailing limb before she started plotting the limb owner's doom, after all. The third time she had to hold onto the headboard to prevent falling herself from falling, Dawn looked at the luminous green numbers floating above the bedside table.

_04:03 am_

She turned to glare at Ben, who snored, rolled over again and continued to snooze, unaware of his wife's increasingly murderous intentions.

Knowing she wouldn't likely get back to sleep until he had settled and that she would probably regret killing the love of her life come morning, Dawn slipped out of bed. She pulled on a light dressing gown and grumbled as she began shuffling downstairs. By the time she had made herself a cup of tea and sabotaged one of Ben's crossword puzzles in revenge, he would have fallen back into a deep sleep. There was a woman in her office at work who often complained about her husband's snoring. Dawn wondered if it would be possible for them to switch husbands for a night.

Covering her mouth as a yawn escaped her, Dawn padded into the kitchen. Without turning on the light, she fumbled with the kettle, knowing where it was from memory, finally managing to pick it up. As she turned to the sink in front of a bay window to fill it, Dawn scrubbed the sleep from her eyes. Ben always felt guilty in the mornings if he had been tossing and turning the night before. While she was annoyed at the time, Dawn knew he couldn't help it and quickly forgave him.

She flipped the lid of the kettle, turned the tap on and smiled to herself. Years of experience had taught her that a guilty conscience usually led to Ben attempting to make up for his night time behaviour. Unfortunately, he was hopeless when it came to romance and present giving, but the thought usually warmed her heart.

To think, she had spent all those years as a teenager dreaming of a Romeo to come knocking on her bedroom window in the dead of night and had instead ended up with the opposite and didn't mind one iota.

Lost in thought, Dawn reached to turn the tap off, glanced out of the window and did a double take.

It looked like her Romeo had arrived, after all.

In the back garden was a tall figure, most definitely a man, staggering slightly. Dawn watched as he threw what looked like a pebble at the window upstairs, the force of the throw nearly causing him to topple into the garden hedge.

It wasn't until the kettle over-filled and her hand was covered in water that Dawn reacted. Startled, she stopped the water flow and squinted outside.

"Her- Her- Hermione!" called the man in a stage whisper that carried into the kitchen. "Mi- Her… Nee!"

The man, threw another stone skyward. Afterwards he looked into his palm, saw it was empty and began scanning the floor, presumably for more pebbles.

Still numb with shock but having a sneaking suspicion who he might be, Dawn calmly rapped her knuckles on the window thrice.

The man jumped and started spinning on the spot, searching for the source of the noise. Eventually his eyes found hers through the window and Dawn waved at him.

Ron Weasley frowned in response. "Shush," he instructed loudly. "Don't – can't wake up her parents."

"No," Dawn muttered to herself. "No, that would be a disaster."

With a sigh, she found the backdoor key in one of the kitchen drawers, unlocked the door and opened it, letting the cool summer night's breeze in. Ron didn't notice and continued looking for more stones.

"Ron?" she said gently. He turned unsteadily to face her, looking mildly surprised that she was there. "Come inside, love."

He blinked several times before answering. "You're… you're Hermione's mum," he stated with another frown.

"Last time I checked I was, yes."

"Is she in?" he inquired hopefully.

"At four in the morning?" Dawn sighed. "I sincerely hope so."

A huge grin lit up Ron's face as Dawn stepped back to admit him. He lumbered into the kitchen, bringing with him the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. It wasn't until Dawn had turned on the light that Ron seemed to notice what was going on.

"Oh-oh no. 'M not in trouble, 'mi?" he slurred, looking horrified. "Jus' wan'ed see Hermione, s'all."

Dawn chuckled. "No, you're not in trouble, Ron." He visibly relaxed as she turned to pour him a glass of water. "Not until tomorrow morning, anyway," she added under her breath.

When she turned back, Ron was slumped against the counter. Even though he was not trying to move, he was still managing to stagger.

"How about we sit you down in the front room?" she suggested. Ron made a noise of consent and Dawn started leading him out of the kitchen. Once he had fallen onto the sofa, Dawn handed him the glass and instructed him to drink.

"Wanted to see her, y'know?" Ron mumbled after his first sip, as though they had been in mid-conversation. "Missed her and I wanted to see her."

"I know, I know," Dawn said soothingly. "Just drink your water."

"I was-"

"_Drink_."

Ron took a large swig and spilt some down the front of his t-shirt. "Shiz perfec'," he continued. "Just… perfec'."

"Hm-mm. Drink." Dawn nudged the glass towards his mouth.

Realising he wasn't going to be allowed to talk until he was done, Ron finished the rest in a couple of painful looking gulps. Dawn took the glass from him and set it down on the coffee table. He didn't seem like he was going to cause any trouble – he was more of a danger to himself than anyone else – so Dawn decided it was probably best to sober him up a bit before sending him home.

Ben would probably hit the roof if he knew, but he could sleep through anything. The chances of him waking up if he had already made it this far were slim. As much as she hated the idea of keeping things from him, she thought there was no point informing him of any of this until the next morning. This way she could claim Ron wasn't as intoxicated as he actually was. It would be a small lie, but hopefully one that would reduce the chances of him and Hermione having an argument over it.

"She's so beautiful. Is – isn't she beautiful?" Ron asked, breaking her train of thought.

Dawn smiled. "Well, she is half of me."

Ron studied her through half closed eyes for a moment. "No…" he said slowly. "You're all right, I guess. Lovely and everything-"

"Why, thank you."

"-but her…"Ron carried on like he hadn't heard Dawn speak. His eyes glazed over and his mouth formed a lazy smile. "She's the most beautiful, 'mazing, smart, beautiful… thing ever."

She supposed she should be angry, but Dawn was simply amused. In the few times she had met Ron he had either been an incredibly awkward teen or trying desperately hard to impress her. In fact, this was likely the first time she had had a glimpse of the real Ron, the one her daughter was so infatuated with. Looking past the slurred words and the horrid smell was a sweet boy who clearly worshipped her.

"Miss – Miss – Missess Granger?" Ron's head slumped back as he spoke, his expression suddenly serious.

"Yes?" She sincerely hoped this had nothing to with the immediate arrival of vomit.

"I love her," he said softly. "So much. It-it hurts, y'know. Here." He gestured vaguely to his chest. "And she loves me."

This time when he grinned, Dawn couldn't help but return it.

"Mum? I heard voices. What's-"

Dawn looked up and saw the most beautiful, amazing, smart and beautiful thing ever in the doorway, wand aloft, hair everywhere and mouth open in shock.

"R-Ron?" she stammered. Clearly still fighting off sleep, Hermione walked shakily into the room.

"Hermione," groaned Ron in response. His head lolled to one side as though trying to find her.

"What's wrong with him?" Concern flashed across Hermione's face as she rushed to his side, crouching on the floor. Her face pinched. "What is that smell?"

Ron eyes flickered open and found her. A lazy smile crept onto his face. "Hey, beautiful."

Realisation dawned on Hermione's face and it wasn't long before she was wearing a scowl. "Are you _drunk?_"

Dawn winced as Ron giggled. Before Hermione could scold him, Dawn jumped to his defence. "I found him in the garden throwing stones at your window. He's been very well behaved," she added, fighting a smile.

One of Ron's hands was trying to touch Hermione's face, but she took it in one of her own before he could. It was probably for the best; it looked as though he might have poked her in the eye.

"He didn't wake you, did he?" she asked, biting her lip.

Dawn shook her head.

"I'm sorry about this, Mum," Hermione said sincerely. "I've never seen him like this."

Before Dawn could reply, Ron tried to heave himself closer to Hermione, only for her to push him back. At the sight of his hurt expression, Hermione rolled her eyes and sat next to him. Straight away he leaned into her, clearly causing her some discomfort.

Just as it seemed Hermione was about to snap at him, Ron mumbled, "love you" and wrapped an arm around her.

Her cheeks tinged pink, Hermione coughed. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two Granger women, only broken when Dawn cleared her throat. "I'll put this glass in the machine." Without another word, she left the room to give the two of them some time to discuss what had happened.

Well, Dawn thought as she entered the kitchen, time for Hermione to get some sense out of him.

It was undoubtedly strange to see Hermione in that situation. At eighteen, Dawn had been content to go for casual drinks with various men and have fun. The idea of a serious relationship at that time was horrifying. She had her university work to consider and she was young; why did she need another half to take up more of her time?

And yet here was her daughter, exchanging the 'L' word with her boyfriend. The first time she had realised that Hermione was capable of more than simply fancying a boy had been the last Christmas she had spent at home, when Ron being with another girl had upset her greatly. The discovery had scared her. She was far too young to have her baby girl falling for someone like that. Although, Hermione had always had been a quick developer. It shouldn't have been too surprising.

_Still_, she thought, poking her head around the sitting room door to see Ron lying with his head in her lap, _it was strange to actually see it._

"Looks cosy," she commented as she sat back down in the armchair.

Hermione tried to look unbothered, but she was blushing again. "I keep thinking he's falling asleep, but then he starts talking again."

Dawn smirked. "How adorable."

"It certainly isn't," hissed Hermione, though she continued to stroke his hair. "Anything might have happened! He could've been hurt! He's already splinched himself." She lifted up his fringe to reveal he was missing an eyebrow. "I'm not replacing it for him," she stated angrily. "It's his own fault and he can look stupid for it."

Nodding along and fighting the urge to laugh, Dawn guessed it would be around twelve hours before her boyfriend's stupidity would be fixed by Hermione. She had already somehow managed to rid him and the room of the rancid pub smell.

"How come you're up?" Hermione inquired, looking up from Ron.

"Your father's doing his fish out of water impression," Dawn told her in an undertone. "What's yours been up to?"

Hermione scowled as Ron mumbled something, his eyes still half open. "Went out with his brothers and, despite not being one, decided to drink like a fish." Though she was clearly trying to remain angry with his actions, there was an undeniable level of concern in her words. After all, what had happened to his brothers? And what had led to them drinking?

Hermione didn't seem to want to discuss it and Dawn wouldn't know where to begin if she had.

"Sounds like a lot of fin," she quipped instead.

"It's too early in the morning for that," Hermione groaned.

"You're right. It's neither the time nor the plaice."

It took Hermione a moment to realise what had been said before she shook her head. With a heavy sigh she gently lifted Ron's head, eliciting a garbled sentence from him. Ignoring this, she got up and replaced herself with a cushion before placing Ron's head on it.

"If you've quite finished being unfunny," she said primly, "I'm going to make this idiot a hangover potion because I'm not dealing with _that _tomorrow."

Wondering how she ended up with a daughter this sensible, Dawn watched her go into the kitchen. Ron was still muttering to himself and was tightly hugging the cushion. Dawn fetched him a blanket from the back of her chair and covered him. If he fell asleep, then he would stay there. There was no way that the combined strength of her and her daughter could move him; he was twice the size of them.

By the time she had joined Hermione in the kitchen, she had already set up a small pewter cauldron over a blue flame that was somehow not causing any damage to the tiled island in the middle of the room.

Hermione glanced up from adding a powder to the cauldron, a crease forming on her brow. "What?" she asked, appearing self-conscious under Dawn's gaze.

"Nothing." Dawn shrugged, not realising she had been staring. "It's just… the whole 'witch' thing just hit home."

The two woman stared at each other a moment, a strange sadness in the air. It may have been known that Hermione possessed magical powers for years now, but, between her not being allowed to use magic at home and being seemingly reluctant to do so when she was, it was a rare occasion that saw Dawn witness her daughter's talents. Since they had returned to England last month, Hermione had avoided mentioning magic at all costs.

Dawn didn't know if it was out of guilt or because she was weary of her father's reaction, but it was sad to see. It was such a huge part of her life now. It always had been, really. Ben wouldn't have a problem with magic being used around him, Dawn was sure of it. It's just that he was still shocked by it all. Much like his daughter, the unknown and the strange was always hard for him to comprehend.

Melding the two worlds together must have been hard for Hermione. Only at Dawn's comment did she seem to realise she was stood in the kitchen brewing a potion. Fortunately, she smiled slightly before stirring the concoction.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever see you with a large wooden post and kindling," she said, with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Matthew Hopkins is an ancestor of mine, you know," warned Dawn seriously as she perched on one of the stools and began inspecting a bottle labelled _Diluted Vipertooth Blood_. She had a vague memory of Hermione recommending something similar to clean the oven with a few years ago.

"Did you know he was really a wizard?" Hermione said matter-of-factly. "He was sent to Azkaban for murdering his business rivals' wives under the guise of them being witches? The Ministry covered all of that up, of course, once the Statute of Secrecy came in."

Dawn gawped at her daughter as she carried on working. Really, she should be used historical facts being lies perpetrated by the magical community by now, but they still caught her off guard.

"He… he isn't actually an ancestor," she pointed out weakly.

"I know," Hermione replied quietly. "I've thoroughly researched both yours and Dad's family trees."

She had tried to pass it off as a casual comment, but Dawn heard the catch in her voice. Finding out her true identity had been one of the happiest days in Hermione's life because it meant she was no longer an outsider. As soon as she could, she had delved into history books, trying to make sense of this new world. Dawn could picture her daughter perfectly, eleven years old, desperately trying to discover where the magical gene had come from. A task she had been told was nearly impossible…

"Hermione?" Ron's rough voice sounded from the other room. "Where you?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione slammed the jar she had in her hand onto the counter. "I will be with you in two minutes, Ron," she growled, breathing heavily.

"'M'lonely..."

"Stay where you are!"

Hermione waved her wand at the flames and they shrunk. Still muttering under her breath, she began collecting the various ingredients and putting them back into a wooden box before slamming the lid shut.

"I didn't have the right ingredients for a Sobriety Solution," she informed Dawn, another wave of her wand sending the box away to her room, "but this will be ready by the morning if I leave it to simmer overnight. It should take away any nausea or headaches."

A loud crash alerted them to Ron still being in the sitting room. They both hurried to see that Ron was now on the floor, looking up at them with a confused expression.

"Fell," he explained, his arms flailing around as though he was trying to right himself.

Together, Dawn and Hermione pulled Ron into a sitting position and then back onto the sofa. Throughout the entirety of the process, Hermione was hissing threats and insults at her oblivious and giggling boyfriend.

"He's a sweetheart, isn't he?" Dawn commented as Ron nearly pulled Hermione onto the sofa with him by hugging her around her thighs.

"No," she snarled, disentangling herself, "he's a moron." She pushed Ron back onto the sofa and he gazed up at her, completely unfazed and grinning. "At the minute," she added reluctantly.

Dawn chuckled as she picked up and began to fold the blanket Ron had brought with him when he had fallen. A lack of sleep had always made Hermione irritable.

"Can he stay here?" Hermione's tentative request stopped Dawn folding the blanket. She looked up at her daughter and saw her worrying her bottom lip. "His mum will go spare in if she sees him like this."

While she was undeniably the more liberal parent, Dawn wasn't infallible and something about Hermione's words caused to freeze. It wasn't until Hermione did the same thing and their eyes snapped together that she realised why.

Her daughter was asking if her boyfriend could stay over.

Before Dawn could react, Hermione started rearranging the sofa cushions to avoid more eye contact. The request alone was one thing, but the guilty reaction as well… Had they already-

"I-I'll sleep on the sofa, obviously," Hermione said as evenly as she could. Eventually she stood up straight. "It's just… his parents have enough to worry about without him waking them up at five in the morning," she added quietly.

"It's fine." Dawn finished folding the blanket and draped it over the back of the armchair again. When she turned back around, Hermione was staring at her, wide-eyed.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Dawn answered with a smile. She glanced at Ron swaying on the sofa. "He's like the pet dog I was never allowed."

Hermione frowned a little. "That's not quite what I was hoping for."

Dawn sighed. She may show the world a confident mask, but her daughter was just like any other child – desperate for her parents' love and support. Since Australia, Hermione had been so careful to stay on her good side. The argument between Ben and Ron and Hermione choosing the latter's side in it had caused such a rift between father and daughter that Dawn was scared that she may withdraw from both of them. With Ben and Hermione both being as stubborn as they always had been, the possibility of her daughter fading from her life completely had been very real.

And yet, here she was, her eyes wanting the answer to the question she was too scared to ask.

Dawn crossed the room and placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders. The younger girl looked close to tears.

"I like him," Dawn whispered.

Hermione seemed to sag with relief. "Really?"

"Really," reassured Dawn. "I would have left him in the garden otherwise."

After a shaky laugh, Hermione pulled Dawn into a tight hug.

For years Hermione had been keeping secrets for various reasons and Dawn had accepted that. She had sworn to herself that what Hermione did to them last year had been an isolated incident, but that didn't mean she hadn't considered the possibility of it not. The abandoned ski trip, needing to stay at Hogwarts over holidays to revise, the Quidditch World Cup… How much truth had been in any of them?

It seemed like her little girl didn't need her anymore, something that saddened Dawn greatly.

But now, with the war over, Hermione was trying to bring her two lives together, starting with introducing them to Ron, arguably the most precious thing the magical world had given her. And, despite everything that had gone before, she cared deeply about their opinions.

As Dawn withdrew from the hug, she smoothed Hermione's hair out of her face. Hermione might have hated it, but Dawn had always hoped that her child would inherit Ben's curls and not be left with her boring hair. She was just about to say so, no doubt to Hermione's protest, when the two of them were pushed back together and engulfed in a strong pair of arms.

It took her a moment to realise that Ron had joined in the embrace.

"Ron!" Hermione almost shouted, pushing him away with difficulty.

"What?" he questioned, apparently hurt that he wasn't part of the moment. "Thought we was hugging?"

Dawn snorted with laughter. Hermione shot her an exasperated look before turning back to Ron. "Sit down."

Ron drew himself up to full height, meaning he towered over Hermione. Dawn half expected to see Hermione back down, but if anything she grew angrier. Deciding it was best to leave them to it, she headed towards the door, hoping she could finally have that cup of tea before heading back to bed.

Behind her, she heard Ron mumble, "I was only-"

"SIT_ DOWN_!" Hermione interrupted. Dawn turned to see her daughter seething and her boyfriend almost cowering on the sofa. She had taught her well.

"That's not fair!" she called from the door. Hermione looked up with a scandalised expression. "I'm not allowed to call him a dog, but you can tell him to sit?"

Hermione opened her mouth to issue what would surely have been a witty remonstration, but Ron chose that moment to pull her onto his lap. Chuckling, Dawn left the room, the sound of Ron yelping in pain and insisting he just "wanted a cuddle" following her to bed.


	4. Sleeping Arrangements

_A/N: Thank you as ever for the reading and reviewing and all that stuff. You are all wonderful. _

_Special thanks to OboeChica for coming up with a theory that was so much better than the truth that it deserved a mention in the story._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling didn't write this or an eighth Potter book so calm yourselves_

* * *

Hermione suppressed a yawn behind her hand as she turned the page of her book. She'd read it a thousand times before but she needed to something to keep her awake before she could slink off to bed at a reasonable time. She'd been dropping off since before seven but she didn't want her parents to worry about her. As it was they were always giving her concerned looks they thought she hadn't noticed. It had got a lot better now that she was able to finish standard portions at meal times but she still wasn't the same girl who had walked out of the house last June, not knowing if she would return.

Some days Hermione suspected she never would be again.

While she appreciated their concern, Hermione was so used to her independence that she found it suffocating at times. She'd been able to brush off most of their questions and hide the majority of the injuries that she had after the battle but she couldn't keep everything from them. When her dad had noticed she didn't like being left on her own, he delayed his return to work. It had led to yet another argument of course. It would be selfish of her to put her parents' lives on hold for any longer. They had done enough, sacrificed enough, for her already.

These were her problems and she was never going to go fix them if they kept mollycoddling her.

So far she had managed to convince them she was sleeping properly again. As long as she stayed in her room for the required eight hours, soundproofed her room and drank enough coffee then they would never know the truth.

She glanced over at them, sitting together on the sofa, her mum curled into her dad's side. They were happier not knowing and, after everything she had put them through, they deserved some peace.

"He did it," her dad nodded at the young mechanic on the TV. "He was having an affair with the bloke's wife and they planned the murder so they could be together."

"You think?" her mum commented sceptically.

Hermione looked over the top of her book. It felt like forever since she had witnessed them play Solve The Murder Before The TV Detectives Do together. The last time she could remember she had been fifteen when both of them had been spectacularly wrong about what had turned out to have been a tragic accident all along. They had both deemed the programme's conclusion to have been a cop out – especially when Hermione pointed out that she had suggested it was an accident before the first break.

"Definitely. If there is a ruggedly handsome mechanic in one of these shows he is usually having an affair with someone's wife."

Hermione's mum nodded. "True, but my money's on the barmaid."

"The _barmaid?_"

"Yep. I reckon she was the dead man's secret daughter, born out of wedlock, with his wife's sister. _They_ planned the murder because his wife found out about her and was planning to divorce him, leaving him penniless. By killing him when they did, the daughter was still in the will and they split the money."

While her mum was still following the scene in front of her, Hermione's dad was gawping at his wife. "That's preposterous."

"My theory and I'm sticking to it," her mum sniffed.

Hermione sighed as she turned the page of her book, catching the attention of her dad.

"What do you think, Hermione?" he asked.

She glanced at her dad over the top of her book and shrugged. "I'm with Mum."

Though it was a simple statement over something as simple as a TV show, Hermione's heart sank at the look in her dad's eyes. His whole body seemed to deflate and the look of hurt on his features was undeniable, no matter how quickly he hid it.

Even after he had looked back at the TV Hermione could still hear the ghosts of Australia that haunted their home.

"_Wait – you knew?"_

"_No – well, yes – but only just before it happened."_

"_Dad, she caught me putting the charm on you and wanted to know what was going on." _

"_So she got a choice and I didn't?"_

"_It wasn't like that."_

"_Either way, Hermione, the last memory I could have had of you was of you using your magic against me and not having a clue why."_

"_Dad-"_

"_Just leave it."_

And she had. She had been so preoccupied over the past year that it hadn't occurred to her that her dad would be hurt by being left out. It wasn't like she had planned on telling her mum the plan – it had just happened. To her dad it still felt like betrayal.

"On top of that," Hermione continued, trying to keep her voice even, "I think that blonde woman who overacts will improperly proposition Troy in the next thirty seconds."

As expected, both of her parents head's whipped around to look at her. Neither the woman in question or Troy was on screen.

"How could you _possibly _know that?" her dad questioned, aghast.

Hermione went back to her book, trying to hide her smirk. "Because this is a repeat of Monday's episode." She snuck another look and watched her father slowly turn his attention he her mum who was watching the TV again with rapt interest.

"Is it really?" she said innocently.

Her dad's jaw dropped and he shook his head. "You are unbelievable," he sighed.

"That nightdress is unbelievable," she grimaced with a nod at the TV.

Hermione closed her book as the scantily clad middle aged woman on the telly pulled a protesting young detective into her cottage by his tie. "On that note," she said with disgust, "I'm off to bed."

"You sure, sweetheart?" her mum asked, shifting around to see her. "It's only just gone half nine."

"Yes, but I'm going to the Burrow early tomorrow so…" she trailed off with yawn. "Sorry."

"Do you want me to make sure you're up before I go to work?" her dad offered. Hermione looked at him for a moment. She had seen his jaw tense at the mention of the Wealseys' home but otherwise he seemed to be genuinely helpful.

"Um… I should be okay. Thanks, Dad," she added with a smile.

He nodded shortly. "'Night then, love."

"Yeah," her mum frowned as Hermione made her way out of the room, "sweet dreams, traitor."

"It's your own fault for cheating," she replied haughtily.

Once upstairs, Hermione slotted her book back into its correct place on her book shelf, withdrew her wand and transfigured her desk chair into a camp bed. Her parents knew how lightly she slept nowadays and had long since stopped checking on her in the night in case they woke her. She quickly got into her pyjamas and crawled into bed. Even though her eyes were starting to burn from tiredness, she cast a _muffliato_ on her room, turned the light off and waited.

At ten PM on the dot, there was a loud crack and a teenage boy appeared from nowhere with his back to her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm fully dressed, Harry."

The boy turned around and shuffled towards the camp bed. "I'm not taking any chances."

As he had done nearly every night for past few weeks, Harry got into his makeshift bed and, placed his glasses carefully on her desk and rolled onto his side to face her. "How're you?"

"Fine. Spent most of the day cleaning the house," she shrugged. "You?"

"I'm all right. Played Quidditch. Fed chickens. Ignored owls from the press."

"If only they could get a photo of you and the chickens together…"

Harry laughed. It was still a rare sound even now and Hermione was pleased to hear it.

"And Ron?"

"Ron? Oh, he spent the day in the village, chatting up that girl who works at-" Harry blanched at the sight of Hermione wielding a cushion at him. "He's good. Bit tired, but otherwise okay."

"Well, serves him right for going out and drinking until dawn," she huffed, putting the pillow back down. "It's his own fault."

Harry looked over at her, his expression one far older than any seventeen year old should ever be able to pull off. "You know he only stayed out after the others had gone home to look after George," he said quietly.

"I guessed as much from what he told me," she replied. That morning she had woken early to get Ron up and out of her house before her dad found out about him being there. After he had drank the potion she had prepared for him, he had sheepishly explained how George had convinced him to stay with him. Ron was hardly a seasoned drinker, but at the minute Hermione doubted even Hagrid would be able to keep up with George. "How was he today?" she asked again, her voice softer this time.

Harry was silent for a moment but she understood. It was difficult to gage Ron's mood nowadays, especially when it changed so frequently and with him trying to cover it all with smiles.

"He wasn't great this morning," he finally told her, his gaze on her ceiling, "but then he spent a few hours with Ginny and he seemed better."

"Good."

"How'd your parents take him showing up?" Harry asked, folding his hands behind his head.

Hermione exhaled heavily. "Dad doesn't know about it – slept through the whole thing, thank Merlin – and Mum was okay with it."

"Really?"

"She was already awake." Hermione rolled over to look at Harry properly. "She's a lot more laid back about these kinds of things. Although she handled it better than I thought she would have."

"Right," said Harry. "Maybe it's her new job or something? Not yanking people's teeth out has had a calming effect on her?"

"Maybe." Hermione replied vaguely, avoiding Harry's eye.

"What?"

Of course, even without his glasses he wouldn't miss her suspicious behaviour.

"It's just…" Hermione tried to marshal her thoughts. "She loved being a dentist and she won't give me a straight answer as to why she stopped. I thought maybe – maybe I'd made a mistake? Maybe she had forgotten it?"

Harry propped himself up on his elbow and frowned. "Has she?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"I mentioned having toothache in front of her," Hermione said distractedly. For as long as she could remember, the mere hint of dental pain led to one or both of her parents giving her an impromptu check-up. When she found out in school that most of the other children only saw a dentist every six months she had been stunned.

"So… why else would she change jobs?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know."

The two friends fell silent again and shifted into more comfortable positions in their respective beds.

Since the battle Hermione found she couldn't sleep without Harry or Ron nearby. While staying at the Burrow she spent most nights sleeping in Ron's room with both of them but when she moved back home it became a real issue. Despite everything that had happened, Ron was still managing to get a full night's sleep without much difficulty, while Harry was suffering with nightmares and restless sleep as he always had. Admittedly the dreams were no longer influenced by Voldemort, but they were still far from pleasant.

They quickly realised the best fix for all of them was for Harry to stay around Hermione's. This way Ron could have enough sleep without Harry waking him and whenever Hermione woke up, she would see Harry was okay and not start panicking. Harry, slightly red-faced at the time, had pointed out the other benefit of this was at least if they were caught, the adults would believe their story. If Ron was found in Hermione's room it would be a very different story.

However, Ron had stayed over a couple of times, but only when he was a having a tough time and asked Harry if they could switch places. Thankfully they hadn't been caught either time.

As much as she liked Ron staying over, Hermione found it was better for her when it was Harry. After all, she had spent weeks dreaming of Ron being there only for her to awake to the crushing heartache of him being gone. She was still finding it suspicious to wake up next to him, fearing this was just a cruel trick being played on her. Waking from a nightmare to see Harry's sleeping form in the next bed was oddly comforting.

Smoke was everywhere.

She could hear screams but couldn't for the life of her work out where they were coming from. The air was opaque and her hair kept falling in her eyes. If she could just _see _then she could help. She could do something.

There was an almighty crash and chunks of rock and debris came flying out of nowhere. The screaming had stopped now and Hermione found herself wishing it would start again. At least then she knew she wasn't alone. Even the smoke seemed to be leaving her.

It was odd how she was almost gliding along the passage that was forming around her…

_Dream. It's a dream. Wake up._

She wasn't alone. In the distance she could make out a figure on the floor. Maybe they knew where she was?

_No. It's a dream. Wake up, Hermione! Come on, just wake up!_

Her vision wasn't impaired anymore, but her heart was racing. She needed to get to the person at the end of the corridor.

_No! You need to wake up!_

They had red hair. She was running now. Time was running out. It was all falling apart. She _needed _to reach them. Something terrible was going to happen. Where had the screaming come from? Why wasn't the person moving?

_Wake up. Just wake up. Please wake up. Please!_

Something was wrong. There was blood. The person still hadn't moved. Their maroon jumper was ripped and dirty. Something was horribly wrong.

_WAKE UP!_

With a jolt, Hermione opened her eyes and she was back in her room. She was shaking so much she couldn't move her limbs. Fortunately she could make out Harry's outline, sat up in bed. She was okay. It was just a nightmare.

"S-sorry, Harry. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

He didn't move.

"Harry?"

Eerily slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his eyes glowing red. A smile crossed his face as he spoke in a chilling voice she had only heard him use once before…

"_Stand aside, you sill girl… Stand aside now…_"

Hermione felt the ground give beneath her and she came to once more. Scrambling up against her headboard, she saw she was in her room again, but wasn't stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice.

"Hermione?" Harry was reaching for his glasses, groggily. By the time he had clumsily put them on Hermione realised how badly she was trembling and tried to control her erratic breathing.

"Am – am I awake?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't trust any answer she was given. It all felt real but it had last time as well.

Harry held his hands up. "You're awake. I promise. Just breathe, Hermione. It's okay."

Panting, she tore her eyes from Harry and found her clock. She watched the second hand for a full ten seconds. As well as helping her calm down, it meant time was passing normally, unlike it did in dreams. Next she searched her room for tiny details – book titles, the folds in her duvet, the smell of fabric softener. Finally, she looked back at Harry. He was still green eyed, wild haired and making a point of not looking threatening in any way. This sort of thing had happened enough times for him to know to leave her alone until she knew for certain she was awake.

"Oh, thank goodness." Hermione buried her head in her hands and took a deep breath. Now she knew this was reality, she felt safe again. The mattress dipped as Harry sat next to her. She only flinched a little when he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"What was it?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep. "It might help to talk about it?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Bit rich coming from you."

"Fair point," he conceded with a slight smile. "Still – you okay?"

Hermione considered opening up to him for a moment. He was her best friend, after all, and who knew more about nightmares than he did? Then the images of Ron's battered corpse and Harry, possessed by the locket, flashed through her mind and she shivered.

"The usual," she whispered. She tried to smile but couldn't manage it. "Bellatrix. Greyback."

Harry nodded and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She winced at the pressure. Tensing up while asleep left her muscles aching and she wanted nothing more than to get back to lie down. Harry understood, went back to his own bed and soon his deep breathing signalled he had gone to sleep.

For the rest of the night Hermione watched the steady rise and fall of chest, trying not to remember the few minutes she had spent convinced she would never see it again. She wondered if she had done the right thing in lying to him. He still didn't know the full story of what had happened to him on Christmas Day and Hermione doubted she would ever tell him.

Eventually tiredness got the better of her and she fell into a restless sleep, wondering just how many secrets she could keep from the people that she loved.

* * *

_Trial new policy: if you are a guest reviewer and make a good point, tell a funny joke, ask a question or insult me with colourful language then I'm going to start responding via a combined post on tumblr. It's frustrating for me being unable to answer stuff like that so I guess it's the same for you guys. The link to my blog is on my profile and it'll be tagged 'halfaslug' so you can find it._


	5. Caught - Part One

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favouriting and all that jazz! You're all brilliant and wonderful. If you're worried about how chapters in this are getting shorter - don't panic. This one is the first part of what could have been one huge chapter that I decided to split up. Shorter chapters mean more regular updates so yay. The next part should happen in a couple of days time if all goes well._

_Wazlib88 (and Google) get the points for guessing why Hermione's dad is called Ben in this (He's named after Ben Harper, the dentist from My Family, whose wife was played by Zoe Wannamaker - a.k.a Madam Hooch) so congrats!_

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts. I'm too excited to think of a joke. Sorry._

* * *

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That?"

Hermione sighed as she turned to see what Ron was pointing to. For the past half an hour he had been lounging around on her bed, trying to work out what all the 'crazy Muggle' things did. This time it was the worn, chubby doll on top of her smaller bookshelf.

"Cabbage Patch doll." She turned back to the mirror and continued plaiting her hair. "My Grandmother bought it for me the Christmas before she died."

"It's bleeding ugly."

Hermione glared at him over her shoulder, but Ron didn't seem fazed.

"What about that thing?" he asked, nodding towards the black box on the corner of her desk.

"CD player."

"Oh. What's a CD player do?"

"Play CDs."

"Oh, ha ha…"

Something soft thudded into Hermione's back as she finished her hair. Ron had thrown a pillow at her. She picked it up and chucked it as hard as she could at him, missing by a good few feet.

"I love pillow fights with you," Ron chuckled. "There's more chance of you hitting yourself than me."

Scowling but knowing he was probably right, Hermione gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. She, Ron and Harry had plans to go for lunch together at a pizza restaurant not too far from her house. The moment Ron had laid eyes on it he had wanted to try it out and Harry was happy to go anywhere where the customers weren't going to hound him. Unfortunately, just as Harry and Ron were about the leave the Burrow, an owl had arrived from Kingsley, asking if Harry could contact him as soon as he got it.

While this sort of thing was getting rarer by the day, Harry was still frustrated by it all. It usually meant that Kingsley was going to make a public statement and needed Harry to say something as well. While Harry wasn't the Ministry poster boy Scrimgeour had wanted him to be a few years ago, he had consented to give the odd soundbite to help Kingsley's new administration, providing that he agreed with what he was being told to say.

Impatient as ever, Ron had decided to wait at Hermione's for him to join them after he was done. She didn't mind. After all, it meant they got to spend some time alone. So far the three of them had managed to adjust to the change in Hermione and Ron's relationship. There had been the odd embarrassed silence and awkward excuse for Harry to leave the room, but otherwise it was the same, just with two of them sitting closer together than they did previously.

Even though the restaurant wasn't exactly posh, Hermione had tried to make an effort with her outfit. Rather than her usual her usual jeans or shorts, she had gone for a skirt instead. It was knee length, but it still felt strange. She had expected Ron not to notice, but as soon as she had answered the door to him, he had said "ooh legs" before his now customary kiss of greeting.

She was a little disappointed he hadn't commented on her top or necklace or her mascara, but this was Ron. It was a start. _Besides_, she thought dejectedly, _it didn't matter how low-cut her top was, it wasn't like there was anything there._ She pulled the offending garment up a little. It may have modest to most but it felt nigh on scandalous to her.

And it had a dirty mark on it.

Huffing, Hermione tried to scratch it off, but it remained, glaring at her from the pale fabric. She'd have to change. Without thinking about it, she pulled her top over her head.

"Is it my birthday?"

Hermione jumped in shock. She spun around to see Ron ogling her shamelessly.

"No," Hermione replied, feeling herself blush, "I was just changing."

Ron's face fell comically and Hermione tried to hide her smile as she went to her wardrobe. Just over a month ago, when they had first slept together, both Ron and Hermione had hidden under the bedcovers, reluctant for the other to see them naked. It hadn't taken Ron long before he would happily walk around in various states of undress, but Hermione had been more guarded. Just because Ron would complement her body at the drop of a hat, didn't mean she was all that confident about showing it to him. And yet, just now, she had started stripping off without thinking twice.

It was the little things like this, Hermione had decided, that showed how much had changed between them in such a short period of time and she loved it.

She opened her wardrobe to choose something else, but stopped when she heard Ron sigh loudly.

"I think you should change your bra as well," he said critically.

"Why?" she asked, going back to her clothes.

"I don't really like it."

"What?"

Hermione paused again. She looked down at the pale blue bra she was wearing and couldn't see anything wrong with it. In fact, it was one of the nicer ones she had purchased after returning from Australia when she raided an underwear shop in a panic. She had had no problem with the comfortable and practical underwear she already owned, but that was before Ron would be seeing them on a regular basis.

Of course, she wasn't about to let him dictate what she wore, but she would prefer him to like it. Trying to stop her insecurity and hurt from showing, Hermione looked to Ron and saw he was still studying her.

He scrunched his face up a little. "It doesn't really go with what you're wearing."

"Oh," Hermione replied, not really knowing what else to say. "Right."

Although she had no idea when Ron had become a fashion expert, Hermione lost the battle with her resolve and folded her arms over her chest. If she thought her self-confidence had been shaky before, it was nothing compared to what it was like when Ron was honestly judging her.

She went back to the wardrobe, blindly moving fabric around, trying to stop herself from over-reacting. It was just one item of clothing, after all. It wasn't like it was a permanent part of her. Or that he didn't love her. It was just that one bra. She'd just have to remember not to wear it if she was going to see him.

Hermione pulled out a thin jumper and held it against herself.

"I don't really like any of your bras," Ron continued behind her.

"What?" This time Hermione didn't hold back. She twisted around and glared at him.

Ron shrugged. "None of them suit you." Hermione opened her mouth to shout something at him (she hadn't quite decided what) when Ron continued. "They always look better on your floor."

Hermione closed her mouth and Ron smirked.

"Or my floor," he carried on nonchalantly. "Carpet in general."

Knowing he had got her, Ron smiled and Hermione turned her back to him so she didn't have to see it. Casually, she flicked her wand at her drawers, causing one to open and another bra to float out of it. The undergarment levitated for a moment and then fell to the floor.

Hermione smirked to herself when she heard Ron sigh dejectedly.

"You always have to beat me," he whinged.

"Well," she said shyly, looking at his reflection in the mirror, "later you can see this bra on this floor, but Harry is going to be here-"

"Hey, guys."

Hermione shrieked with surprise and tried to hide as much of her torso as possible at the sound of Harry's voice. Fortunately, she realised a split second later that Harry wasn't in her room at all. There was, however, a silver stag.

"Sorry, Kingsley needs me for an emergency press conference. Chosen One bollocks. Meet up later?"

The Patronus faded as Harry's message ended while Hermione's heart was still pounding against her rib from the shock of its arrival.

"I'm starting to think he believes himself better than us," Ron sighed, shaking his head in disgust.

"Of course he doesn't," snapped Hermione. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. Harry was likely to be at least an hour, longer if the press were allowed to ask questions. "Do you want to wait or are you hungry?"

When she looked at Ron, he wasn't looking at her face. Instead his eyes were raking her body that was still partially uncovered. Hermione faced him properly and noticed how at home he seemed. Hair slightly tousled, long legs stretched out, arms behind his head… Looking at her with an almost indecent expression in his eyes… She could almost see his imagination working…

"I'm not really that hungry," he croaked, his eyes slowly moving up to her face. It was only when he spoke that Hermione realised that she had been staring at him the same way he had at her.

Their eyes met and Hermione licked her upper lip subconsciously. Her heart was hammering again.

Ron swallowed. "Not for food anyway."

And with that, Hermione's restraint snapped. In the four strides it took her to get to the bed, Ron had sat up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. Hermione had enough time to catch a quick glance of Ron's wide grin and messy hair before she was running her hands through it and their lips were locked together.

As Ron lay back against the pillows and started fiddling with the clasp of her bra, Hermione wondered how he could get her so worked up with a single look. With both of her parents working most weekdays, it wasn't like they hadn't had plenty of opportunity for this sort of thing. In fact, unless Harry was with them, they always managed at least a heated snog every time they saw each other. Shouldn't they be used to being in close proximity alone by now?

Although, as their kisses became more desperate and Ron started attacking the button on her skirt, her bra already on the carpet that it apparently complimented beautifully, Hermione began to think she would never get used to this.

Ron pulled his mouth from hers to bite gently on her ear. "Fucking love you."

"Language," gasped Hermione.

With a growl, Ron was kissing her again. His fumbling fingers gave up on undoing her skirt and instead went to his own fly. "Fucking love it when you tell me off."

Hermione pinched him, eliciting another groan from him.

"And when you do that."

Breaking the kiss to look down at him Hermione cocked her eyebrow. "Anything that you don't like?"

Ron frowned in thought. Giggling, Hermione started tugging his jeans down his hips. Once they were about halfway down his thighs Ron began using his feet to pull them the rest of the way down, leaving Hermione to concentrate on trailing kisses down his neck and across his collarbone.

_Nothing could beat this_, Hermione thought as Ron squeezed her arse with one hand, the other tangled in her hair. All the years of daydreaming and hoping could not possibly have prepared her for how amazing it felt to have Ron beneath her, his hands worshipping every inch of her.

They were best friends who had been through hell and back and were amazing together in every way. This may only be her first real relationship, but Hermione knew that was a winning combination. With a bond this strong, what could possibly stop them?

As soon as she had the thought, Hermione felt Ron tense underneath her and pull his lips off her hers, his eyes wide with fear. She gave him a questioning look, but then she heard it: the front door closing.

"Hermione?"

Her dad was home.


	6. Caught - Part Two

_A/N: Contrary to popular belief I am still alive. Hello! I am so incredibly sorry about not updating for what felt like years but it could not be helped as I had no internet in my house and I no longer have a handy university library at my disposal. This is also why I haven't been replying or reviewing anything either. I've had to wait to visit a friend and use her university's computer room to update which I'm pretty sure is not allowed if you don't attend the uni. Or are not even a student at any uni. I may have broken the law to update. Not the same as __burning up a sun to say goodbye but there you go._

_The upside to this is that not having the internet means there have been very few distractions (by this is I mean 'no tumblr') so lots of writing has happened and you will be able to see some of it when I get the internet back._

_Anyway, thank you very much for all the reading, reviews and sticking around. It really does mean a lot even if I haven't had chance to tell you that yet. Seriously – thank you!_

_Aaaaaand finally here is the chapter. Ron and Hermione being semi-nude and doing semi-nude stuff when daddy comes home. _

_Disclaimer: Remember when J.K Rowling wrote the Potter books and went literally years between updates?_

* * *

Ben Granger smiled as he locked his car and walked up the drive to his house. A cancellation before lunch was enough to make any dentist happy, but when it meant it would be a whole week before he had to hear Mrs Roberts' gripes about the way young people were dressing these days it was even better. The thing that made him happiest though was that it gave him the chance the take his daughter out for lunch.

It had been a while since he had had the chance to spend time like this alone with Hermione. The previous summer had probably been the last time. He could still remember how she had asked him when he next had a day off so they could spend the day together and how he had been surprised at how eager she was. The day had been spent having lunch together before going to see a film. While Hermione had never been the type of girl who was embarrassed to be seen in public with her parents, it still shocked Ben how enthusiastic she had been. Looking back he knew that it was because within a week she would be wiping her from his mind and sending him to the other side of the globe. She wanted one last happy memory of him, even if he couldn't share it.

Shaking his head, Ben shoved his key in the lock and twisted it. It did no good to think of what had happened last summer. Today he was going to start on the steady path of rebuilding his relationship with Hermione. Things hadn't been right since she had found them in Australia and he hated it. No matter how much Dawn reassured him or Hermione explained, it still hurt that he was the only one who hadn't been told about Australia beforehand. The way Dawn told it he wouldn't have had any say, that Hermione would have sent them away without their permission, but she should have been able to trust him.

All they needed was some time alone, without the worries of straightening their lives out or her impossibly tall _boyfriend _there.

"Hermione?" he called. There was no answer.

A glance at the shoe rack told him that she probably hadn't left the house. He removed his outdoor clothing with a slight frown and popped his head into the living to find it empty.

"Hermione?" he tried again. "Are you in?" He checked the kitchen, but that too was deserted. There was a distant thump from above him. She must be in her room. _Probably reading_, Ben thought with a chuckle. Once she had her head in a book it would take an earthquake to get her attention.

Slowly he made his way up the stairs and saw that her bedroom door was closed. There was no music playing either, cementing the theory that she was lost in a book.

"Hermione, it's me." He knocked softly on the door and waited.

"Oh, come in!" he heard Hermione finally in a slightly high-pitched voice. She probably hadn't even noticed he was in the house until just now, Ben thought as he pushed the door open.

"Sorry to disturb you, but-" Ben froze as he stepped into the room. As expected, Hermione was at her desk, a book open in front of her. Unexpectedly, however, Ron was lying on her bed as though he belonged there.

Sometimes just his presence was enough to infuriate Ben. While he may be tentatively smiling at him now, his hair clearly unbrushed, Ben could still remember the face that had glared at him in Australia. Try as he might to pull off the gawky, harmless image he was showing him now, Ben knew that he was capable of threats and possibly even violence. If he could pull a wand on him, he could pull a wand on Hermione. Yes, Hermione could probably defend herself, but what if her wand wasn't near her at the time?

Despite all of this though, he had promised Dawn that he should give him a chance, if only for Hermione's sake.

"Hello, Ron," he said stiffly.

"Hi, Mr Granger." Ron sat up a little straighter.

"Dad," Hermione interrupted, "how come you're home early?"

Ben tore his eyes away from the boy on the bed and onto his daughter. She spoke calmly, but Ben could tell she was on edge by the way she was sitting. It was as though she expected him to start an argument with Ron without provocation. Ben mentally chastised himself. Hermione had already proved that she would pick Ron over him in that situation. As much as he hated it, that was the truth. Dawn was right; he was never going to get his and Hermione's relationship back on track if he wasn't accepting of Ron.

"Thought I could surprise you with lunch somewhere," he shrugged. Hermione's eyes softened a little as though she was touched by the gesture. There was hope for them yet.

"Oh." Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Ron, who still looked utterly gormless. "I was going out with Ron and Harry."

Ben glanced around the room. "Where is Harry?"

"He couldn't make it," Hermione explained as Ron nodded.

Feeling oddly like he was a stranger in his own home, Ben gave the room another look. It was so similar to how it had been for years. There were still relics of her days at primary school. In fact, remove the photos and the teenage boy and it was probably the same. The thought made him realise just how much of Hermione's childhood he had missed.

"So you two were going out?" he asked, scratching his chin.

"Er – yes," Hermione replied. "I was just finishing this chapter." She gestured to the thick book on her desk.

"You know Hermione," Ron piped up. "Can't tear her away from a book mid-chapter." He gave Ben a smile that he didn't return.

"Well, it is an illogical place to stop reading," he responded. He made eye contact with Ron and watched as the grin slid from his face.

"Y-yeah," Ron stammered before looking down and fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

A burst of satisfaction went through Ben, but it was sort lived. Out-witting a teenager who clearly hadn't been the best student wasn't really a victory. Plus he could feel Hermione glaring at him. Yes, Ron had a lot to make up for and prove in Ben's eyes, but there was no way he would be able to if he wasn't given a chance to.

Clearly the way back to Hermione was through the young man in front of him and Ben was willing to try anything. Besides, if Ron ever did do anything to hurt her, Ben would want her to be able to come home and talk to him about it. It was better for everyone if they all got along.

"Well," he coughed, looking from Hermione's guarded look to Ron, "I suppose I could treat you both to lunch if that wouldn't be too-"

The rest of sentence died in his throat. In fact, the whole room seemed to fall away, only leaving Ron Weasley fidgeting with the quilt in front of him.

"What?"

Ben drew in a deep breath with difficulty. His lungs were as numb as the rest of him. When he spoke he was surprised to hear his voice was calm and level.

"Why is your top inside out?"

If there was any chance of there being an innocent explanation it died when the colour drained from Ron's face.

"Ha!" he nervously laughed, sitting up and ruffling his hair. "D-didn't even notice. Mum's always saying she still has to give me a once over before leaving the house."

It was as though the noise from the rest of the world had been turned down. Ben couldn't think. A very small part of him was telling him to remain calm but the sight of Ron Weasley grinning while his eyes panicked was all it took for him to ignore it.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he whispered. In the periphery of his vision Ben saw Hermione spring up from her seat.

"Dad-"

"Get out of my house," he said, ignoring his daughter and glaring at Ron who looked as capable of moving as the desk did.

"Stay there."

Hermione's voice was rang through the room, causing Ben's focus to switch to her. While she was talking to Ron her heavy gaze was on him. They had had their fair share of rows of many things in the past, but Ben could only think of one other time that Hermione had looked at him like that – their argument in Australia, when she had picked Ron over him and everything had changed.

"Young lady, I'll deal with you in a minute," he bit out.

Hermione laughed derisively. "And how exactly will you _deal with me_?"

"We'll be having a very serious discussion about a lot of things," he told her steadily. He recognised her cross-armed stance as a sign that she wasn't going to take any of this lying down. Ben didn't really know why he was so angry. It was still too soon after the original shock for him to process any of it. If he could just get Ron out of the room so he could _think…_

Fortunately Ron was scrambling to get off the bed. "Hermione, it's fine. I-I'm sorry- "

"Ron!" She stared at him disbelievingly and he froze, his eyes flickering between her and Ben.

"I mean-" he swallowed and tried again. "It wasn't – Hermione isn't - I'll go."

"No," Hermione said forcefully. "You have every right to be there as you have done nothing wrong."

It was Ben's turn to laugh. "Nothing wrong? I think we have a very different idea as to what constitutes as 'right'."

"I am an adult. Ron is my boyfriend. Which law is it we are meant to have broken?" Hermione asked sardonically, hands on her hips.

She had a fair point but so did he if he could just calm down enough to voice it. "Don't get smart with me."

"Stop treating me like a child!"

"So you think turning eighteen means you can do as you please?"

"To some extent, yes."

Ben had almost forgotten that Ron was there until he attempted to speak up. "Maybe-"

"I'm not having him in the house," Ben said over him without so much as a glance in his direction. This argument was between him and his daughter. If Ron got involved then who knew what he would do?

Hermione bristled. "Why? Because we are doing what adult couples do?"

Out of the corner of his eye Ben saw Ron slink back a bit as Hermione's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink despite her frosty exterior. None of it felt real though. Something was twisting in his gut. Here was the full confirmation of what he had expected was going on in this bedroom before he arrived and it still didn't feel like the reason he was reacting like this.

Somewhere in the distance, Ron coughed. "Seriously I should go-"

Neither of them paid him any attention. Something in Hermione's expression, likely mirrored from his own, was telling him that this was bigger than what he had walked in on. Bigger than Ron. Bigger than what happened in Australia.

Taking the hint, Ron hastened towards the bedroom door, picking up his battered trainers as he did so.

"Ron?"

At Hermione's voice he turned to face her and she shot him an annoyed look. He quickly shuffled forward and kissed her on the cheek. Ben pointedly looked the other way.

"Bye," Ron mumbled and went to leave but Hermione held him back.

"Owl me later."

"'Course."

The sound of Ron moving towards him alerted Ben to the fact that he was still stood in the doorway. He moved to the left to let him past. As the boy reached the door, he paused, hesitated for a moment before talking to the floor.

"I'm sorry for-for disrespecting you or-or whatever." Ron swallowed hard before meeting Ben's eyes. He could remember, clear as day, the last time Ron had stood up to him. There was no anger or hurt this time, just a steely determination under a blanket of nerves. "But I-I do love your daughter. And – and yeah," he finished lamely. Another twitchy nod and he was out the door, shutting it behind him.

Both Grangers listened to him rush down the stairs. As Ben waited for the sound of the front door closing, he wondered what scared him more – that Ron was lying or telling him the truth.

"Why can't you just accept him?" Hermione asked him quietly.

Ben thought over the many reasons he had not to trust the boy who had his daughter's heart in his unsteady hands. He settled on the broadest one that frightened him the least. "I don't trust him."

"Why? What has he done to make you doubt him?"

"Apart from attack me and use my daughter?"

"He would _never _use me!" insisted Hermione. "Do you really think that I would allow that to happen? How little do you think of me?"

Ben decided to dodge Hermione's questions like she had with the mention of Ron attacking him. "You spent months alone in a tent with him-"

"And Harry!"

"Really?"

Ben hadn't meant to say it. Not really. But once out of his mouth the effect of his question was immediate. Hermione, who had been on the verge of speaking, snapped her mouth shut. The walls they had put up round these issues were crashing down and only now did Ben appreciate them and want them intact.

"You think I'd lie about that?" shouted Hermione. "It's like you don't know me at all!"

"For nearly a year, I didn't!"

Hermione's arms went limp at her sides as Ben ran a hand through his hair. They had finally reached what this argument was about. While he was worried about Hermione and didn't like Ron, his daughter not including him, taking control of his mind and apparently thinking it was okay was the reason he was so angry. For nearly two months now it had been hanging unspoken between them, both ignoring it in the hopes it would fade. Ben had tried blaming as much of this on Ron but it wasn't and he knew it.

It was Hermione who had done this. It was Hermione who had been lying. It was Hermione, his precious little girl, who he didn't recognise in the person in front of him.

"You're telling me that _he _had nothing to do with that?" Ben asked her, clinging to the hope that Ron Weasley really was behind all of this.

"No," Hermione answered quietly. "That was all me in order to keep you alive and I will not apologise for it."

"You lied to us! We trusted you!" snapped Ben, his voice getting louder with each sentence. "We said we would let you go to that school if you didn't use magic against us! We trusted you and you lied to us! You lied to me!"

"For your own safety." Hermione spoke with such detachment, this line she'd been practising for twelve months now. It was this that chilled Ben more than anything.

"Without our permission!" he fired back. "We're your parents! I am your father and you didn't- You can't treat us like that!" Ben drew in a deep breath and ducked his head. To his surprise he could feel the corners of his eyes burning and his hear his voice cracking. He took a moment to compose himself, trying to drag his thoughts away from the betrayal and onto something else. "And now you think you can just have boys over-"

"_Boy_," corrected Hermione. "Singular."

"So Harry has never come over when your mother or I haven't been in?" Ben challenged her.

A look of shock flashed across Hermione's features before she schooled them back into a look of indifference. "You know he has but something tells me that doesn't really bother you."

"Harry isn't the one who tried to attack me and has you thinking that you're 'in love' and making decisions that you are too young to understand."

"How dare you?"

"As your father, Hermione, I am allowed to point out that you are taking your relationship too seriously," he told her. "You are young. You've only been together about a month and you talk about it all like you're already planning on having his children! Something, you are apparently working towards."

Hermione blushed again but this time tried to cover it with a shake of her head and a forced laugh. "Don't be ridiculous! I'm not saying I think Ron and I are going to end up married!"

"Really?" His quite voice sobered Hermione up. The way she had avoided looking at him when she answered didn't comfort him in the slightest.

"No," she replied evenly, finally meeting his eyes. "But I am serious about him. Very serious. He is going to be in my life for the foreseeable future and if you can't-"

"What on Earth is all of this shouting about?"

Almost jumping out of his skin, Ben spun around to see his wife in the doorway, still wearing her coat. From how Hermione didn't answer her Ben deduced that she was as shocked by Dawn's appearance as he was.

"Well?" Dawn prompted when heavy breathing was all she got in way of reply.

Ben recovered from the shock and tried to push his anger aside. He didn't want Dawn knowing what they had been arguing about, not while it was still raw, so decided to tell her how it started instead.

"I came home to find Ron in here in a state of undress-" he began before Hermione snorted.

"Oh please, his t-shirt was inside out," she said scathingly.

For a moment Dawn simply stood in the doorway, looking at both of them. Ben could see her putting it all together, though she was apparently able to keep her temper in check. Her gaze finally settled on Hermione. "And why was his t-shirt inside out?" she asked her.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times as her blush intensified but no sound made its way out.

"Your father came home unexpectedly and he had to put it back on in a rush?" Dawn supplied.

"Yes."

Dawn closed her eyes and sighed before opening them again. Ben could see how resigned she looked. This was far from the first argument she had had to mediate. "Where is Ron now?"

"I sent him home," Ben answered promptly. There was no need to go into the details. Well, not until Dawn asked for them. The sceptical expression on her face, however, made Ben suspect that she knew how much he had missed out.

"Right," she said matter-of-factly, pointing at him. "You – downstairs. You-" She pointed at Hermione. "Stay here. I'll come and talk to you when I'm finished with him."

Dawn stepped back from the door to allow him to pass through. As much as he resented being treated like a child Ben followed her instruction immediately. He had no desire to stay in the room, not with the echoes of what had been said.

As he reached the threshold he glanced back at Hermione, hoping to see the girl he had raised rolling her eyes behind her mother's back. For years the three of them had had this system. He and Hermione would fall out over some discussion and as soon as Dawn stepped in and separated them they had already stopped being angry and would insist the whole process was unnecessary. Of course Dawn would ask them to apologise to each other and neither would because that meant admitting they had been wrong and they were both too stubborn or that, but there was no real animosity there.

Now, instead of Hermione, Ben saw a stranger. She wore different clothes, did her make-up differently and was watching his retreat with a blank stare. With each step he took down the stairs Ben felt older as the crushing weight of realisation settled in his gut – he had no idea who his daughter was anymore.


End file.
